Baldur's Gate: Tales of the Sword Coast
by Italian Empress 1985
Summary: Children of Bhaal: Book One A mysterious conspiracy threatens to throw the whole of the Sword Coast into chaos. A young naive cleric of Lathander, her sister and their talented companions must find the strength within to stop the forces of evil.
1. Prologue: Eyes of a High Elf

**Disclaimer:** _"Forgotten Realms: Baldur's Gate" belongs to Bioware, TSR, and Black Isle Studios. Lilliana is mine and situations that you don't recognize from the game are mine, all other material and inspiration for my material is under copyright by the above named. Additional Forgotten Realms material included in this story but not in the game belongs to Wizards of the Coast._

**Greetings From The Author:**_ There are some changes in the Forgotten Realms setting going into fourth edition that I despise and you will not see them here. This story was inspired by a third edition game and third edition stories. So you can consider any canon that takes place in the new fourth edition realms lore as nonexistent here. In addition, some of the royal elves in canon are called 'high elves' and since the Realmslore never supplied us with an explanation for what high elves are exactly, (at least nothing that I've come across yet) I've given you one here. So I hope no one comes along to beat me with any campaign books. :p_

_After playing the Baldur's Gate games until they had all but consumed my life I decided I needed to make my own epic. The prologue for this story is VERY old, I think I first started writing it five years ago or more and only in the past year have I started writing it in full. So you might notice some style changes from the prologue to the most recent chapter, but I've edited these previous ones so hopefully they read smooth. Also, a warning to those whose attention may stray, I write LONG chapters. Book length, however they are separated into subsections within each chapter, so hopefully that makes it easier for you to stop and remember where you left off. _

_I was inspired to write this, by real life and how one develops because of those around them. Lilliana is a gentle lady in every meaning of the words. She can't fight well at first and has little knowledge of the world that exists beyond the walls of Candlekeep and the books within it. In order to survive she will have to depend on others and only through their companionship and instruction will she be able to handle her dark destiny. She has very proper and oft times flowery dialogue and ways of thinking, so if you hate that, you might not like her but she is close to what I imagine a young lady raised in the cloistered grounds of a library would be like. They aren't 'all' amazons or spitfires. :p I'd like it if you stopped by anyway and maybe this story WILL be right up your alley. ;) It most certainly isn't verbatim from the games, or the published novels, but I do prefer to use more canon (pre-existing, official) characters instead of original characters, beyond the protagonist of course. However some canon roles for the non-player-characters (NPCs in the gaming world) are expanded to a large degree in this jolly little romp, so be prepared for that as well as some slight changes to the game mythos._

_I hope I live up to your expectations! I welcome all reviews so don't be afraid to say "you stink!" or "kewl story!":p_

* * *

_**Baldur's Gate**_

_**Children of Bhaal Saga: Book One**_

**---Tales of the Sword Coast---**

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* * *

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_He who fights with monsters should look to it that he himself does not become a monster. When you gaze long into the abyss, the abyss also gazes into you._

_Friedrich Nietzsche_

* * *

_**Prologue**_:

_**Eyes of a High Elf**_

* * *

**Year: 1355, 17'th of Hammerfall**

**A** tall wood elf walked through a dimly lit doorway of a home that constituted _barely_ as a hovel. He shut the door behind him, keeping the drifts of snow from sneaking into the building. The main room was lit only by a fireplace that blazed for illumination that evening and warmth in the cold grip of winter. A raven haired child sat by it, drawing with a stick of charcoal on a piece of parchment. The girl looked up, a wisp of hair falling away from one of her pointed ears, and smiled at the elf who was just removing his snow dusted cloak.

"Hello Master Alieradon."

The half high-elf child's green eyes reflected the lick of flames from the hearth and for a moment the eerie reflection caught the wood elf off guard. He quickly composed himself.

"Hello Lilliana. What are you drawing, young lady?"

Charcoal had turned the girl's pale hand the color of soot. The rest of her arms were covered by an oversized tunic that was undoubtedly her foster father's.

"A dragon. Papa told me stories about them. This one is an evil black dragon, after I'm done with him I'm going to draw a good golden dragon. You can't have good without evil . . . right Master Alieradon?"

Sartonis smiled in spite of himself. "That is most certainly correct Lilliana. Where is your Father? I've come a long way to speak with him."

A gruff voice responded from the darkened kitchen before the child could answer. "Trying to meditate, but it seems the fates have conspired against me and brought you early."

The wood elf walked across the room as Lilliana went back to her drawing.

Gorion Avalon embraced his friend in a hug and brought Sartonis Alieradon into the kitchen with him. They sat at either ends of a small wooden table, a single candle on its surface, lighting up their faces. Neither one of them wanted to garner little Lilliana's attention and so when conversation began they made sure to measure their voices to rise barely above a whisper.

Sartonis spoke first. "I've never been good at idle conversation my friend. This I'm sure you know." He paused for a moment. "How long do you intend to live out here with the child? You can't run _forever_. Khelben seems to think . . .well despite his _own _problems with them he admits the Harpers may have some resources that the Moonstars do not. Perhaps you could take her back to them, surely if you explain . . ."

Gorion banged his fists on the table. "_No!_ I will not have my daughter treated like some kind of aberration! Lilliana is seven years old and I already _wasted_ two of her years on the Harpers. I am no longer a member of that organization for a reason, just as _you_ aren't. They cannot be trusted, certainly not where the welfare of my child is concerned. Their solution . . . _That bastard Galvarey's solution_, was no better than having her buried alive!"

Sartonis sighed heavily and rubbed his forehead. "You know that as your friend I only want what is best for you and for the child. She _is_ her sire's daughter, Gorion, and despite your best efforts you have no way of making sure that she doesn't become affected by the taint within her."

Lord Avalon prided himself on his calm demeanor and slowly he began to regain that, responding once again. "You have a son, Sartonis. Kivan is only one hundred and nineteen, an adolescent by elf measurement. Tell me, would you hand _him_ over to the Harpers? Would you trust his welfare to _anyone else_?"

Sartonis took a moment to mull that over. "It's different . . . it's _very_ different and you know that. My son is close approaching adult hood. Kivan will soon be married and I'm sure his life is going to be a simple one. There is nothing 'simple' about Lilliana. There is no telling _what_ she will be able to do when she comes into her heritage and there is also no telling _when_ that will be. Do you honestly believe that you can handle it on your own?"

Gorion smiled sadly. "Lilliana is all I have left, Sartonis. She is my world and I will protect her with my very _life_. The elven measurement of her heritage is very potent. Maybe it was because of who she was fathered by that the fey blood became stronger in her than her mother. . . I don't know . . . but it makes her different. Somehow it adds a delicacy to her demeanor that fights against anything else that may be there. I believe in that innocence; that I can keep her untainted. Despite all that she is still very much _my_ child. I may have not sired her but she is mine _now_ and I have to believe that it changes things for the better. Please understand that. I need you to believe that she can be saved from the blackness that possibly will come. . .without being denied a _normal_ life."

Sartonis sighed again before nodding. "Very well my friend . . . but we must find somewhere safe for the both of you to go, so you can stop running every half moon. Moving from place to place isn't what I would call the 'normal life'."

Lilliana came into the kitchen, surprising both of them. The small candlelight in the room lit her face enough so that they could see she was smiling and holding her drawing out with both young (and quite filthy) hands. Sartonis exhaled in relief when it seemed that she hadn't heard them, though they had been near silent with the lack of volume.

"I'm done Papa! It's my _bestest_ one too."

Gorion smiled adoringly at her and Sartonis could see how much he loved the girl. "'Best' Lilliana, 'bestest' isn't a word. Come here and let me see it better."

The half high-elf child dutifully took it to her father and waited shyly for him to inspect it.

Lord Avalon didn't have the heart to tell her that her black 'dragon' looked more like a dog, and that whether dragon or dog it had too many legs. "It's beautiful sweetheart. Go set it in the kitchen drawer and we'll see about having it laminated tomorrow if I can find the clear wax."

* * *

**Year: 1356, 29'th of Ches**

Spring brought with it the first true warmth that melted all but the most persistent mountain snow. The Sword Coast was beginning to pick up the pace of what would become a caravan covered landscape by the beginning of summer. Small wagons dotted the sides of the long stone and dirt roadway that snaked its way from a pass in the southern Cloudpeak Mountains up to the grand city of Baldur's Gate.

The Coast Way road was long and desolate, attacks by highway men were frequent. With only three small towns, one of which was a halfling village, there were long stretches of lone wilderness; left open to assault if one was unwary. Of course travelers also had to worry about the things lurking in the darkness of the many ruins casing the hills. The dangers of the road and the Sea of Swords that hugged the coast line were what gave the area its name. To its residents the lands were known as The Sword Coast.

A convoy of six covered wagons had made their way up from the iron mining town of Nashkel, carrying spices from the southern city of Athkatla. Their destination was the great Baldur's Gate, duke's chair of the region and trade center of the Coast Way at both its merchant leagues and the port authority. Home to the Flaming Fist brigade, the protectors of the Western Heartlands.

There were two that traveled in the group who had a different destination in mind. Gorion Avalon and his eight year old daughter, Lilliana, had gotten passage on the convoy at the town of Trademeet. Like Athkatla it was part of the southern region of Amn though far less populated. It had been a tiring journey but the human sage knew that it wouldn't be that much longer and their passage would be over.

They were just now nearing the town of Beregost and a glittering golden building, beset with statuary and artistic architecture, caught Lilliana's eye. "Papa! Papa! What's that?!" She called out excitedly and Gorion was worried he was going to have to grab her before she jumped out of the wagon.

One of the mercenaries hired to keep the caravan safe looked over from his spot on a chestnut colored bay and waved. The sage waved back and turned to his daughter. "That, Lilliana, is the Temple of the Morning Song, dedicated to Lathander if memory serves."

The girl smiled brightly in awe. "It's _beautiful_!"

Gorion grinned at her statement. "Indeed my child, indeed."

Since Lilliana was old enough to start speaking full sentences, she'd seemed to carry a special place for Lathander in her heart, for reasons that Gorion did not know. She had informed her father that when the sun was at its brightest was when the 'Morning Lord' could look down at them. Fair weather had marked their trip after they had moved past the Cloudpeak Mountains. Lilliana believed that the blue sky and bright sun shine were a sign that Lathander had blessed their journey and agreed with the destination. It was surely ironic that a child of _her_ origins was beginning to develop into a servant of Lathander. Gorion welcomed _that_ kind of irony, though he tried to instill his own faith in the god of knowledge and wisdom, Oghma, in his young daughter additionally.

"Can we go visit, Papa? Pleeeassseee?" Lilliana looked directly at her father, her eyes big and pleading.

"If the caravan decides to spend the night camped just outside Beregost then yes, perhaps we can go visit."

The young girl kissed her father on the cheek and hugged him fiercely, squealing in delight. "Oh thank you, Papa!" She returned to her perch by the window where she could view the temple from afar.

Gorion looked over at his daughter, taking the moment of quiet to study her features. Lilliana looked _nothing_ like a half elf but far more like a full blooded high elf.

The high elves were the regal bloodline of the elven species. They had spent generation upon generation cloistered within elven cities where the royal families ruled on high. They had nearly become a race apart and even their looks could be differentiated from those of their cousins. Their features were quite obvious in Gorion's little Lilliana, even at her age. With her pale skin, jeweled toned irises, long fine hair, dainty pointed ears, and high cheekbones.

Her demeanor was what gave away the human half of her mother's genes but she had yet to show any sign of her birth father's blood. She was happy, eager to please, unwisely trusting and overwhelmingly compassionate. It was impossible to believe that there was any potential in her being for darkness. Gorion knew it was there but somehow Lilliana had maintained her innocence and it shone with sparkling clarity from the eyes of a high elf.

The little lady smiled at her father and came over to curl herself in his lap as she gazed out the open window frame of the wagon they were in. "Are we very close to our new home then Papa?"

He nodded, rolling up a scroll he had been reading and putting it away in a container made for such purposes. "It will not be long now. Are you excited?" The sage knew he didn't need to ask when Lilliana nodded her head emphatically.

"It is going to be _very fun _to live around other people."

She had said it with a child's honesty and meant no ill will by it but Gorion felt a pang of guilt at that statement. For most of her life she had been hidden away in solitude with him, making only brief trips to nearby towns and then only because Gorion was too worried to leave her in another's care when they needed something. _Was he wrong to have kept her away from public? Would it have better served her to be exposed to the world? _Even now the place that he had chosen to take his daughter was sheltered. It was a tourist attraction to be sure and brought in many noble visitors but inside its walls it kept out the evils of the region beyond them.

Lilliana looked right at him as if she had read his thoughts. "You look sad, what's wrong?"

Gorion forced a smile. "Oh nothing child, just thinking on some things. How would you fancy buying you a new book? I have been told that one of the inns here in Beregost has a store that carries tomes."

Lilliana was taught not only how to read, but how to read and speak in _several_ different languages. Currently they were working on the dark elf tongue. Sartonis had thought it unnecessary for Lilliana to learn the language of the evil drow. Gorion had maintained that in her life his daughter would need to use a wide variety of tongues if she hoped to acquire more knowledge from life. The sage had hoped to find a primer on the language. He had heard of one written by a dark elf that had escaped to the surface and had learned common.

"Can we get one about Myth Drannor?" She was speaking of course of a settlement of ancient times, when many races got along far better than they did now.

Gorion smiled; perhaps he would get _two_ books this day. "If we can find one I cannot see why not. Make sure you gather _all_ your things Lilliana, we don't want to leave our items behind when we switch caravans tomorrow."

* * *

Candlekeep sat before them and Lilliana couldn't sit still despite her father's commands. Gorion was nervous himself, though certainly more composed than an eight year old. He ran his hands over the cover of a book he had received from Sartonis some time ago. It would be needed to gain entrance into Candlekeep, despite the fact that the High Keeper of the Tomes (the great library's version of a ruler) had been given several months notice of their arrival. The rather draconian entry rules that the keep employed during its creation were maintained in as stern a fashion today as they were at their inception. A book of value from any visitors, beyond the merchants that dropped off deliveries, was a requirement if one wanted to see more of Candlekeep than its gates.

Feldepost's Inn at Beregost had a wide collection of books and Gorion had purchased not only the two that he had hoped to find but several more, however none of them were of the outstanding worth that the book Sartonis had gifted him was. Soon its leather bound cover would be sitting amongst the shelves of Candlekeep's already extensive collection. Another book, hidden deep within Gorion's belongings and hidden within a larger tome, seemed to almost absorb the energy that Lilliana and Gorion's nervousness was giving off. The sage moved the pack away from himself, his gray eyes looking at it warily. It was certain that the skin bound Book of Chaos, which had been disguised to prevent its identification, would never see _any_ shelf. He'd prefer to not have the unnatural thing at all but he knew that the visions of the future seen on its dark pages might prove necessary in the years ahead.

The merchant that had given them a ride from Beregost, down the Way of the Lion to Candlekeep, gave a shout from his perch and they could hear the horses snorting as the small covered wagon came to a stop.

"Marnin' watcher. Have a wee bit more than me shipment fer ye t'day." The aging deliveryman bellowed as Gorion lifted his daughter out of the wagon, their bags at their feet on the road way.

The gate warden, a tall and imposing man, raised an eyebrow at the merchant he apparently recognized. He looked around the portly man to the father/daughter pair behind him. His voice was gruff when addressing the driver but at the same time surprisingly gentle and well mannered. "Good morning yourself Mister Wilby. Visitors? I trust you informed them that unless they are delivering supplies, a donation is required to the High Ulraunt's library."

Lilliana raised one hand in a charming salute to the armored guard and made a practiced lady-like bow. The deep velvet blue of her traveling dress was showing signs of wear and dust at the bottom. "My father already knew about the donation good sir. We aren't visitors though. We intend to st . . ."

Gorion put a flat palm over his child's over exuberant mouth before she could reveal their intentions. When the petite girl realized that he wanted her to be silent she looked up at him sheepishly, one slippered toe digging in the dirt abashedly. The blonde sage removed his hand from Lilliana's mouth and also bowed in greeting before speaking to the gate warden. "I was infact aware of such a donation before Master Wilby kindly agreed to give us transportation here, though he certainly let me know it besides. In any case my daughter and I have a donation ready for your grand Candlekeep." He bent down and opened one of his bags, removing the book carefully from its protective cloth. The History of the Shadowlands was handed over to the guard who seemed to recognize its value immediately. Gorion was certain that most of the watchers of Candlekeep were trained to recognize literary worth, for if they weren't then such entry rules could be bypassed _far_ easily than they were being enforced currently.

"Indeed. Candlekeep thanks you for a more generous donation than was necessary. Please come in . . . Mister Wilby, you know where to go."

The portly trader pulled his belt up as high as his ample belly would allow and nodded, leading his carriage through the now open entranceway without much fuss.

Cawing crows gave the two newcomers a not so friendly greeting before the gate warden handed them off to another. The man winked at little Lilliana as the pair met another watcher and went back outside as the gate closed behind him.

The officer that was to escort them was quite young and Gorion doubted if the brown haired youth was much older than one and twenty. He looked at Lilliana's semi-pointed ears and back at Gorion. "She's _your_ kid?" He seemed disbelieving which amused the sage.

"Quite so. We would request an audience with your High Ulraunt, if you don't mind Master. . ?" Gorion trailed off waiting for the young guard to introduce himself.

After giving one more look to the half-elf child he favored the sage with a name. "Uh, Hull, just Hull. Why would you be going to see Ulraunt? You plan on negotiating a sale on some tomes or something?"

Gorion shook his head. "No Master Hull, we wish to speak to him concerning a more permanent residence. He is expecting us, I'm sure."

Hull looked taken aback. "Stay?! _Here_? You must joking . . . but I don't suppose you are when I think on it. Not too sure how _that's_ going to go over. You don't look like a monk and we haven't ever had kids here except for the tots the tourists bring with them sometimes and they aren't _ever_ let into the Great Library proper, too many valuables you know. None the less, enough hawking . . . if you say he's expecting you I'm guessing I should take you there."

A gurgling fountain sat nestled in a lovely spring garden, the aroma and the appearance soothing to a pair that had spent the majority of their life on the road. Lilliana was tossing pebbles into the water, giggling at the way they bounced, until she got a reproving look from Hull and put her arms behind her back. The garden opened up to a cobbled walkway that led to the golden carved front doors; entranceway to the greatest library on the face Faerûn.

Lilliana's eyes traveled up the length of the keep's face, growing wide as she finally reached the top. "Wow, it's so _big_ Papa! You didn't say it was so _large_."

Hull huffed in some kind of amusement before addressing the pair. "I'll have to have some names."

Gorion nodded and introduced both himself and his daughter. "I am Sir Gorion Avalon and this little madame is Lady Lilliana Avalon, as stated before, my child."

The watcher nodded, satisfied with the answer but as Gorion and Lilliana made to enter the doors he held an arm out to block their path. "I'm afraid just _you_ Sir Avalon, the kid will have to wait out here. I told you earlier that no children are allowed in the Great Library and unless I hear differently from Ulraunt himself I'm not going to risk my job on it."

Gorion nodded solemnly. "That is fine but she can't stay out here _alone_."

Lilliana almost bounced up and down, eager to prove that she could take care of herself. "I can _so_ Papa! I can stay by myself, especially if you aren't going in there for long . . . please Papa. I want to sit in the garden and I won't go no where else. I promise! Please, please, please, please . . . Pleeeeaassseee!"

Gorion finally gave in. "Alright, but don't you _dare_ wander off or you can forget about reading the Myth Drannor histories I got you any time soon."

Lilliana grinned from ear to ear, hugging her father's leg as he stood two steps above her. "Oh I won't wander off Papa. I really won't!"

Gorion smiled. "And Lilliana . . . " She looked up at him questioningly. "It's 'I won't go _anywhere_' not 'I won't go _no where_' remember?" The girl nodded as her father gave her one last smile and went inside the keep with the young Hull.

Without the watcher to keep her at bay she grabbed more loose pebbles from the walkway and sat at the edge of the fountain, happily skipping them across the surface of its small water pool. She jumped when one of the large crows they had seen earlier landed right beside her left hip and let out a loud 'CAW!' Normally Lilliana loved wildlife, including crows, but there was something off about this one and she could felt it . . . the _wrongness_ of it tingled up her spine.

The bird stared at Lilliana, its eyes looking almost human but demonic in their inky blackness. In the back of her head the half high-elf could hear a faint whispering, but not gentle at all. Instead the whispering festered inside her mind, gaining intensity with the crow's stare and it felt like sanding stone against her brain. The whispering became words that she could understand and though they were only inside her skull, chipping away at it from within, she knew that the crow was causing them. '_My blood your blood my blood your blood my blood . . .'_

Lilliana yelled, grabbing her skull. "Stop it! Stop it right _now_!" She screamed, taking a fistful of pebbles and throwing them at the crow. Instantly the whispering ceased as the black bird flew off, stopping at an edifice on the keep and cawing at her angrily before flying completely out of sight.

A tall woman that had been somewhere farther away in the garden came running, her deep brown hair coming loose from a haphazard bun, light blue robes swishing madly as she ran toward Lilliana. As the woman came closer she seemed focused on Lilliana but her eyes didn't lock on anything in particular. Her accent was heavy with a Sembian lilt. "My goodness child are you alright?! You sounded as if you were being attacked. . . I shall call the Watchers . . . "

Lilliana stopped her, shaking her head. "No, it was just a stupid crow. It scared me is all. Sorry milady. I didn't mean to worry you."

The tall woman smiled, still with her eyes unfocused and Lilliana realized that the brunette's blank stare was caused by blindness. "Oh no child, you need not be sorry. The crows have become a nuisance. We usually have hawks to pick them off before they get into the small vegetable gardens here but lately the crows outnumber the hawks at least six to one."

A pleasant mint fragrance came off the blind woman's blue and gold embroidered robes and Lilliana recognized the garb as that of a mage. The woman placed a hand outward for the young half high-elf to shake.

"Lady Phyldia Lauer, formerly of Sembia recently of Candlekeep, and you young miss?"

Lilliana shook the woman's hand with her own, lightly. "Lady Lilliana Avalon, formerly of . . . I don't know. I am _hoping_ we can be recently of Candlekeep. My papa says we will be and he _never_ lies. You live here all the time then? I didn't think anyone but monks stayed here and you are too pretty to be a monk. You're a _mage_ aren't you?"

Phyldia looked embarrassed but nodded, an amused smile pulling up the corners of her lips. Children always had so many questions and often asked them all at once. She hadn't realized it until then but the Sembian mage rather missed children here at Candlekeep. "Indeed I am child, but I also am a practicing cleric of Oghma. Not that I'm dreadfully good at either profession but I get by. Tell me Lady Lilliana; how is it that you don't know where you're from and more importantly who is your father? I've heard the name 'Avalon' before."

Lilliana shied away, not as eager as before to look at the woman speaking to her. "Well . . . " She must have been skipping rocks longer than she thought, for her father calling her name saved her from answering what she thought was an embarrassing question. _After all, what kind of people don't have a permanent home?_ "I'm over here Papa! I didn't go 'anywhere' just like I said."

Gorion noted how she stressed her word correction from earlier. "Yes you are right, you didn't go anywhere. It seems you've met a new neighbor. Good days greetings Madame. I am Sir Gorion Avalon. I take it you've already met my daughter?" He nodded his head in the direction of little Lilliana, who had suddenly become shy.

Phyldia held out her hand and introduced herself as Gorion did the same. The blind woman held a gentle smile on her face that reminded the sage briefly of his late wife. "We were just discussing where you lived before and why it is you have decided to stay _here_."

Unlike young Lilliana, Gorion was prepared for such questions. "Well I have been a traveling sage all these years and my daughter proved, at an early age, to be more than capable to be my assistant. As such we have done a lot of itinerating, a lot of studying. I can't place anywhere we've been for too long."

The mage made a face that told Gorion she didn't much like that idea, but then he had expected that kind of a reaction and was geared for his next response. The blind mage spoke first.

"No disrespect Sir Avalon, I have after all heard a great deal about you and your adventures in your youth, but a life on the road is nothing very fitting for a little lady such as _this_ one." She motioned to Lilliana who was watching the interaction between the two adults with some unveiled interest.

_How was it her Papa always knew what to say? Why couldn't __**she**__ be like that?_

"Indeed, on this I agree. My wife, rest her soul, would've objected in much the same manner as _you _have, Lady Lauer. It has helped my daughter's education and schooling is _very_ important to me, but I must confess that I realize traveling for so long might not have been the best idea. So I have decided to make a home here, permanently. It might seem odd since I have already been informed that no children have taken residence here . . . _ever_, but what better place for Lilliana to learn and grow without worrying about the hazards of the world outside? She gets on very well with adults, so she won't be wanting for friends. Of that I am certain." Gorion informed the woman.

Phyldia nodded, smiling again, apparently pleased with that answer. S he shook Gorion's hand one more time before excusing herself. Kneeling down to what she guessed was the young girl's height she shook Lilliana's hand in turn. "Well met to you as well Lady Avalon. Fare thee well."

The eight year old half-elf returned the shake with vigor. "Oh yes! Fare thee well to you too Lady Lauer!" After the middle aged mage had retreated down the path Lilliana turned to her father, still quite happy. "Oh I like her a _lot_ Papa! I hope everyone here is that nice!"

Gorion chuckled lightly. "My dearest, if only that was the case. I'm afraid the High Ulraunt is still undecided on the issue. He will, however, allow us to stay at the inn they have here." The sage left out that it had taken everything but a screaming match to get the stuffy High Keeper of the Tomes to agree to even _that_. Somehow, Ulraunt knew that there were those looking for Gorion and his daughter and he clearly didn't want any chance of trouble visiting his gates.

"There is an inn here? Wow! How big are the inner grounds?" Lilliana looked about her in awe, nearly disbelieving that she would finally have a home . . . _and it was gigantic_! No more little shacks and cramped wagons, always moving to different camps. Candlekeep was large, impressive, and almost alien to the child but soon it would be home.

"The grounds as a whole are fairly sprawling in size. Tomorrow perhaps we can get a tour. Don't worry too much Lilliana; I'm sure the High Ulraunt will come to a good decision."

Lilliana hugged her father snugly as they made their way to the Candlekeep Inn. "I'm not worried; after all it's my Papa that he was talking to. He _has_ to come to a good decision after _you_ talked to him." The child's adoration made Gorion's heart swell and he hugged her tighter.

* * *

**Year: 1360, 17'th of Flamerule**

"I don't _wanna_ clean the stupid 'ole basement! It's dirty and . . . . and there's rats!" A short human girl was pouting, her arms crossed. Her strawberry blonde hair hung in short ringlets. It gave her an appearance that was far more docile than her demeanor. She stared up at the tall and rotund man before her, giving him dagger eyes with her sprightly spring green orbs.

Winthrop Voltaire was the owner of the Candlekeep Inn. At fifty three years old, he was unmarried and had no children. He didn't have the patience for the little lass but he had no one to blame for the situation but himself

Traveling back to Candlekeep from Baldur's Gate, Winthrop had come upon a caravan wreckage. The unmistakable arrows of hobgoblins marred its burning sides. Though none of the ugly creatures were there when Winthrop arrived. Cautiously he had climbed from his wagon, settling the horses, and gone to see if there were any survivors. The cries of a child caught his attention and it was underneath the blackened tarp of one of the attacked wagons that he found _her_.

Imoen was the only survivor and was unwilling to talk about it. Winthrop was lucky she even gave him her name. Without parents, or a home to speak of, the innkeeper had brought her back with him to Candlekeep. It wasn't really a place for children and little Imoen found plenty of ways to get into trouble.

That was nearly four months ago and he had yet to get his adopted charge to listen to him.

Winthrop had done what he thought was best by her. Even though she still hated to do chores, she had her head screwed on straight. After Winthrop had formally adopted her she also had become an important facet in the innkeepers life even if she could be more than a little light fingered; a habit he was trying to break her of.

Her pouting brought his musings to a halt and he glared down at her, hoping he looked stern and not constipated instead, like Imoen always told him he looked. " I don't _have_ any rats! The basement is filthy because the little girl that was supposed to clean it has refused to do so _three days in a row_! If you'd have done as I asked it wouldn't _be_ dirty."

The stubborn eleven year old still held her stance. Suddenly her cherubic face lit up in a huge smile and she bolted past Winthrop and for the door, where Gorion Avalon stood. She hugged his tall frame closely. "Sir Avalon! Is Lil here?!" She asked excitedly, looking past Gorion now and straining to see if she could spot her best friend.

Lord Avalon smiled down at the girl, patting her head and looked past her to see her adopted father looking a little worse for wear.

"Giving you a hard time again is she, Master Voltaire?" The sage asked already knowing the answer.

Winthrop nodded. "Does the sun rise in the east? Aye. She's a devil child to be sure."

Imoen wrinkled her nose and was about to tell 'ole' puff guts' that she was nothing of the sort. Lilliana's entrance changed her mind.

Both girls had been nigh inseparable since they met. No matter how much time they spent together they always seemed excited to see each other upon each meeting. Lilliana and Imoen had adopted themselves as sister and it seemed obvious to what depths their love for one another reached.

Gorion worried that the human girl might be giving his studious daughter some bad habits, but it was good for Lilliana to have a friend her own age, with Imoen only one year younger. Besides which Gorion thought Imoen was a good girl at heart, much like Lilliana. It also seemed that if there _were_ trading of habits going on that Lilliana was giving Imoen some _good_ habits. She had begun to teach the human girl to read, though at twelve she often had to enlist help with this endeavor from her father or one of the high readers.

"Papa said you might need some help cleaning the basement." Lilliana offered, her mousy voice barely making it over the din of the talking in the inn's common room.

Imoen made a disgruntled face. "But I don't _wanna_ clean it!"

Lilliana smiled and put her arm around Imoen's neck in a very chummy fashion. "It'll be fun. We could find some neat things down there . . . like books! Plus if we clean it maybe Master Voltaire will let you go look for Slinks with me later. She's lost him again."

Slinks was the gray tabby cat of Lady Phyldia and both girls had a soft spot for the little fur ball.

The half high-elf looked up at both her father and Winthrop. The latter nodded.

"I suppose so. It'll be the only way to get her to do as she is asked anyway. Go on then!" The inn keeper shooed them away as he began a conversation with Gorion . "What's your secret? How in the Hells do you get her to be so all fired excited to do whatever chores you give her?"

Gorion smirked. "Oh, not _everything_ I ask. I doubt she would be as excited if it didn't mean that getting it done gave her more time to spend with _your_ daughter, Master Voltaire. She may seem well behaved but I assure you that my Lilliana has a habit of picking and choosing which rules she'd like to follow and which she believes need improvement. If her clerical vocation does not pan out, we could always look to politics." He laughed.

* * *

Lady Moirala Delryn slowly eased herself from the carriage, stepping velvet slippered feet onto Candlekeep's soil. She stopped moving for a moment to enjoy the feeling of the warm summer sun on her skin, brushing rich brown locks away from her face. It was nice to be here and the Amnian noblewoman could imagine that she was already feeling better.

She had an illness of the lungs and though the clerics of Helm had tried their hardest it seemed persistent. They had told her that a trip to the northlands, and cleaner air, might to do her some good. Her husband, Cor, was a Knight of the Order of the Most Radiant Heart, an ever faithful servant to Helm. At the moment he was serving the Order in a campaign to rid Amn of a goblin infestation. He couldn't accompany her and their two children on their vacation but she was alright with that.

It had been a long journey from their home city of Athkatla, but her seven year old daughter Moira and fourteen year old son Anomen had been fairly well behaved throughout most of it. Moirala had been the one to choose Candlekeep as their first destination to visit. Little Moira loved books and her brother liked to read them to her.

They bounded from the carriage, eager to stretch their legs.

"Mama! It's _big_!" Moira looked up at the library with wide blue eyes, her curly chestnut hair hanging around a doll like face.

Anomen snorted. "Well of course it is, Moira! Father said it would be big, though I don't know how he remembered through all his drinking!"

Moirala shot her son a dark gaze. "That's enough Anomen!" He started to say something again but the look from his mother stopped him. She hated chastising either of her children and she knew that _sometimes _Lord Cor did get into his cups but he was still a good man. Moirala wished that her husband and her son got along better.

"I want to go for a walk." The fourteen year old boy remarked to his mother, who nodded her consent.

"Alright, but don't get into any trouble. The books we donated offered us passage but not a free pass to cause problems. As it is, you two are only allowed inside because I've rented us private rooms. On your best behavior, Anomen. Now come here darling, your collar needs to be straightened." Moirala motioned her son over and he begrudgingly obliged her, rolling his eyes as she tidied him up to her satisfaction. '_How handsome he will be when he is grown! Just like his father!'_ Lady Delryn silently remarked as she looked at her first born. He was tall for his age and already his frame had gained some muscular bulk. It was all the work outs that the Order required him to be put through.

Anomen had been squiring with the same Order that his father was a member of, only it had been at Moirala's and not Cor's insistence. Lady Delryn didn't understand why her husband thought their son too delicate to handle the rigors of training but Moirala had never stopped trying and finally her husband gave in. She knew Anomen wanted to join and perhaps time with boys his own age would do him some good.

The shock of rich dark brown hair that crowned her beautiful boy's head was thick and unruly despite Moirala's best efforts to keep it neat. A thick tendril of loose hair was partially concealing his brow line but Moirala could still tell that right now his bright blue eyes, like those of his mother, were annoyed.

Moira was bouncing on her heels, anxious to get inside. "Mama!" She whined and Moirala reluctantly let her son go.

"Have fun exploring, darling!" She called after the retreating back of the hurrying Anomen.

"Yes, Mother." Was his brief reply as he disappeared behind a particularly thick gathering of blooms and statuary.

Anomen was glad to be away from his mother. As much as he loved her, she had a bad habit of coddling him. He messed up his collar again on purpose as he walked around the corner. The sound of two children caught his attention. His mother had told him that besides his sister and himself that there would probably be only adults at Candlekeep.

'_Other kids, maybe some my own age!'_

He ran to the sound, only to stop in his tracks when he found the two culprits. _Girls! _Anomen didn't like girls. They were nothing but a nuisance. Even little Moira was a troublesome handful. Though she was probably the tamest of any of the female children that lived in the upper class neighborhood of Athkatla. Some of the other boys that were training at the Order had begun to notice the noble daughters of the City of Coin, smiling at their beauty and playing at games to get their attention, but Anomen would do no such things. He had more important matters to attend to than gaining the frivolous attention of any _girl_.

"Slinks! Come on kitty; come down from there . . . please?" A petite red head was up in a tall willow tree that had grown close to the keep, her simple pink dress hiked up to her frilly bloomers, as she leaned precariously over the branches. She called out to a gray cat that was content to sit on the edge of an eave and ignore her.

There was another girl standing on the ground beneath the tree, cautioning her friend to be careful; the fabric of her clothing hanging from her short, scrawny and rather awkward frame. The one on the ground wore a gown of rich dark green silk but Anomen doubted that either of them were of the prestigious parenting that _h_e was. Dismissing them as servant girls he began to wander away until one of them called out to him. '_Damn! I could've escaped!' _

Her voice was so whispery that it was a wonder he heard her at all. "Hello. Who are you?" Came the query from the skinny brunette. The question was a simple one and her smile was inviting.

It was bad manners to ignore her so he _had_ to answer. He cleared his throat, preparing his posture to be that of a nobleman and focused on his title. "_Lord_ Anomen Delryn."

The red head hung from a tree branch by her legs to stare at him. "You're cute." She commented and just as quickly went back to her cat calling, not willing to be deterred in her quest to retrieve the wayward Slinks.

The brunette shrugged, apparently used to her friend climbing trees in addition to her flippant behavior. "That's Mistress Imoen Voltaire, my sister, and I'm Lady Lilliana Avalon." She placed a hand out for him to shake.

_How odd. _Girls curtseyed to boys and boys were supposed to bow to girls . . . not shake hands. That was something done between men. _Didn't the girl know that? Probably up here in the north they didn't teach them such things. _Still, she had called herself a 'Lady' that must mean that she was some sort of courtier. That meant he had to at least _pretend_ to be nice to her.

Anomen shook her hand anyway, holding onto it after shaking it and raised it to his lips to kiss briefly. The knights at the Order always did that with his mother, though it disgusted him to watch such a display and even more so to do it himself. "Greetings Lady Avalon and Mistress Voltaire." He looked up into the tree but the other girl was obscured by the branches and thick leaves. _How could the two girls be related? _One was a red headed human and the other was a black haired elf; not to mention that the elf had introduced herself as Lady while her sister was introduced as Mistress. _The inhabitants of the Western Heartlands were weird!_

"Slinks likes to get on the roof, but he's been up there awhile and Lady Phyldia, that's his owner, wants him back. We were done with our chores so we went to go look for him. Now that we've found him we can't get him to come down. Imoen is better at climbing trees than me but Slinks just ignores her." Lilliana explained briefly, smiling shyly at the boy. '_Imoen is right, he is very cute and he kissed my hand!'_ "Are you any good at catching cats, Lord Delryn?" Lilliana asked, batting her eyelashes the way she had seen some of the visiting young ladies to Candlekeep do with the younger male readers.

His cheeks turned a light shade of pink and he looked away from the elven girl. "Well . . . I . . . I . . . I could _try _to retrieve this animal for you ,milady."

Imoen uttered an '_ouchie_!' somewhere up in the branches as Lilliana nodded her head at the boy.

"I'd like that very much."

Anomen took off his blue brocade vest and rolled up the sleeves of his silk shirt. "Alright ladies, move aside. Lord Delryn is now upon the task." He announced as he began to climb up into the willow.

Imoen dropped down and looked up as the boy moved. He was even better than _her_! Lilliana was watching him with a big smile on her face, her eyes looking as if they were somewhere far away.

Imoen looked over at her, whispering. "What's _your_ problem?"

The half high-elf sighed and whispered back, still keeping track of Anomen's movements. "He kissed my hand." An already wide smile grew bigger and she sighed again.

Her sister wrinkled her nose at the statement. "_Gross_!"

* * *

Nightfall had embraced the grounds of Candlekeep like a rich dark blanket around a sleeping child. Only a few lanterns lit the lawn around the entrance to the keep and the entrance to the inn. A bright candle was kept lit all night at the Temple of Oghma. In this darkness, two small figures were barely visible as they were perched on the shingles of the south west tower. Before them, the Sea of Sword was spread out, reflecting the sparkle of the sky above it. It was a clear night and the moon kept company with the many stars that shared its home. The two figures sitting under the moon were children and both of them were watching a meteor shower that was falling down somewhere very far from Candlekeep.

"Look at _that_ one! It's huge!" The fourteen year old boy remarked, his blue eyes going wide with awe.

The twelve year old girl, that sat beside him, smiled. "It's too bad Imoen was sleeping, but we've had a lot of these lately. So she's not missing out on _too _much. Lady Phyldia says it's an omen that the gods are preparing some grand movement. Either way it's worth having my sister get mad at me for missing this if that means I didn't have to get her up. Imoen is grumpier than a bear if you wake her when she's really sleepy."

Anomen Delryn was wrapped in a cloak as he sat crossed legged on the roof of Candlekeep with Lilliana Avalon. Both of them were dressed in their night clothes, having snuck out of bed at nearly the same time. Anomen had gone to sneak into the kitchens to get something to eat when he bumped into the half high-elf. She had been on her way to the roof to watch a meteor shower that was supposed to take place tonight.

Tethtoril, one of the High Readers, had apparently spoken to an astrologer that frequently visited Candlekeep and told Lilliana's father about the shower; _she_ had eavesdropped. Anomen had to make her promise to take him or he'd tell that she had gone up there and he knew she wasn't supposed to. She had agreed and after they had gone down to the kitchen to get some chocolates from the pantry, the two restless children had made their way out onto the roof.

Thusly, there they sat, watching a meteor shower together and the Amnian boy was actually enjoying himself immensely. Anomen didn't like to admit it but after spending a week at Candlekeep he had begun to think of Lilliana and her adopted sister Imoen as his friends, even if they _were_ girls. They weren't like the girls at home and there weren't any other boys at Candlekeep to make fun of him because he was spending time with them. It was safe to like them. The human boy looked over at the one he'd been spending _most_ of his time with. All the things he had been taught to believe were viewed so differently by her. She found happiness from the strangest of things and her upbeat nature was far too contagious for Anomen not to catch it.

In Athkatla's Government Quarter, it's richest area, there were no elf families and the Order only took in _human_ squires. Anomen hadn't had many opportunities to become familiar with any kind of elves, half or otherwise. He'd been raised to believe they were delicate and fickle, unable to take anything seriously and lacking the strength needed in battle. Lilliana wasn't likely to become a great warrior, of her own admittance on the subject a few days past, but she wasn't _fickle_. She had an amazing inner strength and could stay focused on the same thing for days . . . she was _wonderful_. Right then she was watching the sky and Anomen reached out to touch the tip of one of her pointed ears.

Lilliana jerked at the unexpected touch and turned to look at her friend. "What are you doing?"

The human boy pulled away quickly, embarrassed. "I'm sorry. I couldn't help it. I've never been this close to a half-elf before and I just wanted to know what your ears felt like."

Lilliana laughed. "They feel like _ears_ of course!"

Anomen was put off by her laughter but he eased down and snickered along with her. "That was pretty stupid of me wasn't it?" He asked and Lilliana shook her head.

"No. _Silly _maybe, but not _stupid_."

Another large meteor fell down in a burst of blue, trailing flickers of light behind it. Their attention was drawn to it and they both watched with awe. Even though Lilliana had seen these before she still loved watching them as they lit up the sky. The sound of the wind, or the wildlife that was out at night, had been purposely cut off from her senses by her own will as she concentrated on watching the show of celestial beauty. So it was that she barely heard her friend when he spoke.

"Thank you for bringing me up here. Even though I _did_ threaten to tell on you . . . thank you anyway. I wouldn't have really gotten you in trouble . . . I just didn't want to be left out." He was smiling at her when she finally tore her gaze away from the falling meteors.

She shrugged. "I know why you said you were going to tell on me . . . but that's alright. I like the company and I didn't have to worry about _you _waking up grumpy."

Anomen was still staring but after a long silence finally spoke again. "It may be Flamerule but it's still a little chilly. We can share my cloak if you want to."

Lilliana eyed him warily. "Are you sure?"

The boy nodded. "I'd be more than happy to share." He was thinking back on a conversation he'd had with the girl a little while back. She had remarked on how pretty his mother was and how she carried herself with such elegance. Anomen had told Lilliana that she was just as pretty but she had shook her head.

'

'_No I'm not. I have ugly black hair, colorless skin and I'm as skinny as a scarecrow. In fact, I probably _look_ like a scarecrow!'_ She'd laughed at herself then but Anomen disagreed with her.

'_You're wrong about that milady. You know what _I_ see? I see a healthy girl with ebony hair, ivory skin and pretty emerald eyes held in bands of brilliant silver. Besides you are only twelve. I bet when you are grown that you are going to be the most beautiful lady in Candlekeep!'_ He told her and she had smiled, laughing.

'_Well that won't be too hard . . . because there are only _three _females that live here, and that's counting _me_ too! Though already, Imoen is far prettier than me.'_

Even if Lilliana Avalon wasn't as pretty as the girls in Athkatla, she _was_ a lot nicer. "Lilliana?" He queried.

She answered with a simple "Mmm hmm?"

Anomen fidgeted in the nervousness of his next question. "Can I . . . Can I kiss you?"

The half high-elf's eyes widened in surprise but she nodded. "I guess you can. I've never been kissed before."

_He_ had never kissed anyone either and he wasn't quite sure what to do, but he _did_ know that he _wanted_ to kiss her. He let instinct lead him. His eyes were open, blue staring into green, but as he got closer he closed them. At the first touch of her soft lips he wanted to jump back in shock at the alien feeling but he persisted, enjoying the smell of the chocolates on her breath.

So it was that on the roof of one of Candlekeep's spires under the light of the moon and the falling meteors that young Lady Avalon and Lord Delryn each had their very first kiss.

* * *

"Your move." Tethtoril called out, watching Gorion's confused face.

The sage curled his fist under his jaw and surveyed the board. "Ahh, yes I see." He moved his own piece as the two played chess together in the rare translations room.

Midday sun filtered through the painted windows, creating an odd play of colors on the smooth stone floors. The game was a weekly thing and it allowed the two aging humans some time to talk over the goings on at the keep.

"She's made friends with that Delryn boy, her and Imoen. It bothers me." Gorion commented as Tethtoril moved a knight and replied.

"You are thinking that the girls will grow too close to their new friend and be heart broken when he leaves? They've made friends before with the children of our visitors. They seem to both understand it cannot last forever."

Gorion smiled at his friend. "This is true, but I think it's different this time. Imoen will get over it quickly, I am certain, but Lilliana . . . with _her_ I have my doubts. She gave him a braid of her hair yesterday to use as a book mark in one of the tomes Lady Delryn purchased. She tied it in gold ribbons and decorated it with gems. You really should have seen it. Lilliana usually just sticks to making jewelry."

Tethtoril grinned in triumph as he took Gorion's queen. "Aha! That makes three weeks in a row. Your skill is slipping."

Gorion shook his head, laughing heartily. "Either that or you are growing better with age."

Tethtoril shrugged as they both took a drink from their earthenware cups. "Which book did she get?" He asked and Gorion raised an eyebrow in thought.

"Fredyrck's Star Theory, I think. We had ten copies of that book and she had to trade Arabellum's Merchant Compendium for it. Ulraunt charged her twice as much as it's worth. I would've said something but he already had a beetle in his ale from the _last_ time I gave a customer pricing advice."

It was Tethtoril's turn to be amused. "Well it only cost Ulraunt three hundred gold pieces for your 'advice'. Tell me, why does it bother you that she gave him a gift? After all, did the boy not give Lilliana a gem studded notebook just last week? Gift giving is common among children of their age."

Gorion thought that over, and Tethtoril was right. Lilliana especially liked to give things away. "Aye. He did. She told him about the training she has begun to undergo at the temple for her clerical vocation. He gave her the notebook to write her conjurations in. I think she's got him pondering about something similar for himself, though undoubtedly his passion would be in Helm's name, not Lathander's. Still their conversations together . . . I think she has a crush on him Tethtoril."

The Keeper of the Tomes burst out laughing, earning a quizzical stare from Gorion and any nearby readers as well. "Did you think that she would _never_ make the transition into woman hood? My goodness, _all_ young girls have a first crush somewhere in their formative years, usually much earlier than twelve. To have such is natural. It should be of no concern and besides she could do a lot worse. Imagine if she took a shine to one of the watchers here. Perhaps Hull, a man twice her age!"

Gorion's look of horror at that thought sent Tethtoril into another fit of laughter, which led to coughing. He composed himself and took another drink.

"Hmm. I don't know, I suppose that I had begun to believe that in Candlekeep certain things might not happen. Still, you are right and neither of them have done anything untoward to cause me any worry. I just hope she isn't hurt too badly when the Delryns have to leave tomorrow." Gorion stated as the game of chess continued.

Tethtoril smiled. "She is a good girl, she'll be fine. You raised her with a quality of character seldom seen in children her age and little Imoen is the same way. Both Lilliana and Imoen will be back to their regular impish selves by the end of next week. Come now, concentrate on our game, you are _letting _me win!"

* * *

"I wish I didn't have to go, you are my first real friend. I don't know if your _sister_ will miss me much though." Anomen remarked, gazing off into the distance, where Imoen was busy trying to catch a frog that was escaping into the brush.

Lilliana laughed. "Well, Imoen is Imoen, but she _will_ miss you too. She thinks of you as a friend, just as I do."

Anomen smiled sadly. "I doubt that. No one will ever think of me as a friend as much as _you_ do. I'm going to miss you a lot Lilliana."

The half high-elf shared the sad smile and hugged the human boy tightly. "Well, you have my braid to remind you of me and I have your notebook to remind me of you. I shall keep it always."

Anomen perked up at that, but a memory wasn't the same. He sighed and hugged her back before pulling away. "This is good bye then."

Lilliana shook her head. "Maybe not. We could see each other again if the fates will it . . . I think we will."

Anomen's eyes brightened. "You do?! I mean, of course. Yes, we _will_ see each other again. I . .. good bye Lady Avalon."

"Wait Anomen! I wanted to say thank you." Lilliana stopped him.

He looked confused. "For what?"

The half-elf leaned forward and kissed his cheek. "For being my friend. Have a safe journey Lord Delryn."

Imoen did make her way over to say good bye and hugged the Amnian boy, telling him that she too was glad to have met him.

Anomen Delryn left that morning holding a heavy heart. He hadn't expected to find so much happiness at Candlekeep, but now that they were leaving he found himself wishing he could stay there forever. The young boy opened the book his mother had bought him. He had requested it so he could learn more about meteor showers. Inside the crease was a small braid of Lilliana's black hair, held with a gold ribbon beset by multi-hued beads. The boy smiled and placed a hand over the cheek she had kissed. Anomen hoped that she was right about the fates for he very much wanted to see her again someday.

-


	2. Chapter One: Home of Fortitude

**Disclaimer:** _"Forgotten Realms: Baldur's Gate" belongs to Bioware, TSR, and Black Isle Studios. Lilliana is mine and situations that you don't recognize from the game are mine, all other material and inspiration for my material is under copyright by the above named. Additional Forgotten Realms material included in this story but not in the game belongs to Wizards of the Coast._

**Words From The Author: **_While the story is rated T because of it's violence and sometimes adult situations I feel that it's fair warning to be a little more specific with Chapter One. The latter part of this chapter contains a rather disgusting violent act. It's still T appropriate but if you have a weak stomach perhaps it's best to skip that part and you'll know it when you see it. _

_Also you readers might notice that Lilliana is sometimes to referred to as just an 'elf', 'high elf' or an 'elfess' That would be from another characters point of view, one that doesn't already know that she's only half. Since she looks nearly nothing like a half elf. So it is on purpose, but I thought I'd let you know._

_I'm having some difficulty getting the right pitch on Sarevok's character. At least "I" think so, if you readers like him then great! __:)__ But keep an eye out for me throughout the story and maybe you can find ways in which I can improve in that specific department._

_Thank you for taking the time to join Lilliana on her journey :)_

* * *

_**Chapter One:**_

_**Home of Fortitude**_

* * *

**Year: 1368, 6'th of Mirtul**

**C**andlekeep could be called a tourist resort but only the most pampered of dandies would call it such without a measure of great respect. The large keep, which sat nestled on an old volcanic crag above the shores of the Sea of Swords, was the only place in Faerûn that held such a high amount of literature; making it a citadel of literary excellence.

The many-towered fortress was once home to the famous seer, Alaundo, who founded the library those many years ago and the keep still held many of his writings in its expansive libraries. Along with the seer's prophecies there were many scrolls that had been procured by agents hired in secrecy by the monks of Candlekeep. There were books there that High Ulraunt would _never_ relinquish but the High Readers had multiple copies of some books, of which could be purchased; for a hefty fee and a book trade of course.

One twenty year old half high-elf, that sat surrounded by dusty tomes in one of the keep's upper libraries, was reading 'procured' scrolls right then. The particular set she had was named The Arts of Kaza, and the bundle lay cradled across her small lap as she read. Lilliana Avalon's vivid green eyes scanned the ancient words, the silver rings around her irises flaring when she came upon a certain word written on the parchment.

The monks of Candlekeep were worshippers of Oghma, the god of knowledge and wisdom. Lilliana had spent some of her formative years as a cleric training under a priest of the wise deity. Her love for Lathander, a feeling that she could remember carrying during her early childhood amidst the first memories she would ever form, was still strong. Despite the lack of interaction with other Lathanites, as servants of His Most Brilliant were so coined, it was through the many books on Him that her love grew and her passion for conjuring in His name.

Her fine boned hands pulled out a notebook bound in gem encrusted brown leather from a cloth sack. She scribbled down the translation of the paragraph she was currently looking at quickly. The notebook had been a gift from a friend eight years ago and was filled with some of Lilliana's favorite conjurations. Many clerics used scrolls but the half-elf thought the book kept everything a little more neat and tidy.

A small emerald orb swung at her neck by its chain when she moved her head, glinting the sunlight into green beams that hit the books on the shelves of the room. She kept her curved, point tipped ears attuned for any sounds of approaching footsteps. If she was caught copying that she would be under Reevor's care for a _long_ time and she knew that the burly dwarf would probably have her on rat duty for the whole period. To be placed under the watch of the warehouse manager was considered punishment to most all of the young acolytes and wards in Candlekeep. Reevor Battleaxe was a decent enough old dwarf, but he did have a way of working his charges roughly.

Lilliana heard feet rapidly making their way up the stairwell and quickly laid the scrolls down behind her. She grabbed a random book off one of the shelves and set it in her lap. The sun coming through the windows reflected on the nearly pink head that appeared followed by the rest of a human girl's petite frame as she reached the top of the stairs.

"Heya you! Where ya been Lil? I was lookin' everywhere. Reading _again_? Geeze how boring is that?" The strawberry blonde haired girl smiled charmingly at her sister and best friend, short ringlets bouncing on her shoulders as she walked over to the half high-elf. "Whatcha readin?" She bent down to see the cover of book Lilliana had in her lap. "_Migratory Patterns of Northern Seagulls_? Snore! Could ya read anythin' _more_ boring?"

The ebony haired half high-elf gave an un-ladylike snort. "No, nosey, I was not reading _this_. If you must know, Imoen, I was copying down something and I hid it when you came up here. I thought it was one of the monks. Now you promise not to tell anyone what I was copying right?" Lilliana held up the "Arts of Kaza" for Imoen to see without waiting for an answer, since she already knew it would be 'yes'. "It is a book on perfecting your conjuration summons in combat, I have been reading for hours and it is amazing. " Lilliana's eyes sparkled with an interest that her adopted sibling had seen many times before . . . _how Lilliana loved her reading. _

Lilliana's face grew serious once again. "Now really Imoen you cannot tell anyone. I could get into serious trouble if _anybody _knew I was copying things like this. The last time I got caught Ulraunt nearly had me thrown out and Papa was so mad I thought his ears would be blowing fire."

Imoen smirked playfully "Like if I _did_ tell anyone you wouldn't fry me on the spot with one of your new spells."

Lilliana looked offended. "Imoen, they are not _spells_ they are summons abilities, conjuring of Lathander's will and. . . what are you looking at me like that for?"

The small framed red head finally erupted with laughter as she watched her sister's staid face. "_Conjuring of Lathander's will! _Haha so serious! Really Lilliana you sound so much like Gorion when you try ta be high toned!" She giggled once more and then straightened her face but that impish grin was still present. "Alright I get your meaning sure'nuf . . . so what do you really mean they aren't spells? They are pretty much the same, right?" she asked, smiling.

Lilliana loved Imoen like she was her sister by birth, and she had grown used to her behavior, so she wasn't very offended at all by being laughed off. "Well conjuring summons are not the same as mage spells. For one, they cannot be read off the page to be performed _nor_ can they be created. They exist only in the hearts of those devoted to their god or goddess. They are written down simply so the practicing priest can recall the exact words needed for the holy appeal. Your belief in that power allows you to call them up. Sometimes new conjurations may become available for a priest or priestess to call, but only if their deity wishes to bless them with that ability. Another way of thinking is that mages call forth their spells from their mind. We clerics call forth our abilities from our soul . . . and they take quite a lot of practice as well. I don't know, I suppose I am just speaking gibberish again." Lilliana laughed when she finished her long winded speech and saw Imoen nodding and giggling. Her sister was right, she _did_ sound silly and high toned and very similar to her father when she went into her rants.

"Why are ya readin up on somethin for _combat_ anyway Lil? It's not like you can use it here except for practice 'n' stuff. Plannin on killing Reevor's rats with a Storm of Vengeance? That might be overkill, ya know? I don't even know why we both get trained, we'll probably just die in Candlekeep as old maids with a lot of cats." Imoen giggled and Lilliana sighed.

"It never hurts to know about such things , even if I don't use them. Papa says we must always strive to gain knowledge, so that if the time comes to use what we have learned we are prepared." The half high-elf explained, a look of affection in her eyes when she spoke of her father.

Imoen nodded. 'I guess so. That 'Turn Undead' you were practicin with the other day was very neat. Though those skeletal warriors that Phylidia conjured for you scared the bejeepers out of me! Speakin of practice, you have ta practice tactics with Obie today." Imoen wrinkled her face at the thought of the grumpy old mage. "I had to practice with him yesterday and again today . . . Hey maybe he will let us practice together! Probably not though."

She sighed slightly but her small frown was replaced by another of the girl's chipper smiles. "Even though his magic is kinda boring I think maybe someday I'd like ta get into the arts of magic." Imoen jumped when she heard the gruff voice of a watcher yelling up to them from downstairs.

"Girls!" he bellowed loudly.

Lilliana smirked and placed the scrolls she was holding into their respective shelf. "Just a moment Master Hull we are coming!" She yelled down. Neatening her long skirts Lilliana walked slowly down the narrow stairwell leading down to one of the lower libraries, her long braid swinging against her back.

When she and Imoen reached the floor they found the tall watcher, Hull, glaring down at them. "My job ain't to be chasing after you two brats, I have guard duty don't ya know? Now get a move on to Obie's, the both of you!" he roared. His face was red and flushed from running around the keep looking for the two young ladies. A vein in his forehead was throbbing visibly. "Now!" he yelled and Imoen gave a yip as both of them ran giggling through the keep.

"That Hull is too much; he looks like a big red windbag when he gets angry!" Lilliana remarked breathlessly. Imoen did an impression of the blowhard guard of Candlekeep, pinching her cheeks to make them red and puffing them out. Lilliana was laughing so hard she had to hold her stomach. Her and Imoen had made it outside and were sitting on the stone steps. The water trickling from the nearby fountains was a peaceful background noise to their girlish giggling. Finally catching their breath they sat there for a moment.

A small framed man, wearing bright red robes, made his way across the front walkway. "Good morning girls." he spoke in his calm, soft spun voice. "Aren't you two supposed to be with Obie about now? He had too much Evermead last evening and his mood isn't grand and will no doubt be worse if you are late." He advised them with a small shake of his finger.

Lilliana rose and bowed to the elderly man in a show of respect. "Yes Master Tethtoril. We are headed there this instant." She smiled at him.

The aged Keeper of the Tomes nodded. "Good girls, you two behave yourselves and good luck today."

Imoen and Lilliana both bid him thanks followed by a "Fare thee well." and they were off down the cobbled walk.

* * *

Obie grumbled a few choice phrases . . . _it was late in the morning hour and those two imps were not here yet! _When the door that led into his training room creaked open he prepared himself to give those two girls a sound boxing on the ears but his face lost it's glower when he realized it was the half high-elf's father, Gorion.

"Sage Avalon. What brings you to my humble presence this morning?" He smiled at the tall blonde haired man but the smile was strained. Gorion coddled his daughter incessantly and Obie had a feeling that the man had come to give him instructions on how to treat the _precious little darling_.

"Good morning Master Obie, I trust you are well. I come here about my daughter."

Obie groaned slightly under his breath. _I saw this one coming! _He thought to himself.

Gorion ran a hand through his graying blonde hair thinking how to continue. "I would like you to increase her training today. We . . . _she_ might be in need of knowledge on weaponry sooner than she thinks. It is always wise to be prepared for . . . unfortunate circumstances." The sage frowned, deepening the creases around his mouth.

The middle aged mage arched one brow. "Sir Avalon, are you two taking a trip? I must say that I was not informed of such or I would have taken it upon myself to have your daughter properly trained before now. She has only been working on defenses and the only weapon we have used in her sessions, and the few with Imoen, has been a quarter staff." Obie looked at the sage quizzically. _What was he about?_ Gorion knew that no one could learn decent weaponry in the course of a week, let alone a day or two. _What did he expect him to do; snap his fingers and 'poof' Lilliana would be an expert fighter? Ridiculous_. He said as much to the aging human before him.

"Gorion, Sir Gorion . . . I cannot simply flick my wrist and teach Mistress Lilliana everything she needs to know. That would takes months, and years before she was an expert! You expect me to be a miracle worker?" He almost snarled, _this man was ludicrous if that was his belief._

Gorion thought Obie to be a man sorely in need of a heavy boot to kick his rear from the pedestal he always placed himself on. Nonetheless he treated the man with a measure of respect. "Master Obie I do not ask the impossible. Even if such a thing as making learning a matter of snapping the fingers or waving a wand was possible, I want no such thing for my daughter. She needs only the basics to defend herself, and not just with words and movements. A few swift swings with a staff might be enough to dissuade a common ruffian but Lilliana has barely enough training to do _that_. Her clerical skills are growing but she needs to understand the basics of combat as well. The answer to your question is no, no trip, I just want my daughter to be able to protect herself in case I cannot be by her side constantly . . . you understand of course." He gave Obie a grin, as if to say _'Of course you do.'_

The mage grumbled something unintelligible. Gorion crinkled his nose, a habit that Lilliana was picking up from him. "What was that? I could not hear you Master Obie."

The mage gave an irritated sigh before answering. "I said I will try my best." He gave Gorion a false smile that was falsely returned.

"I knew you would . . . oh and one more thing, don't be cross with the girls if they are a little tardy. They are probably late because they were reading, an agreeable habit." The sage went up the steps before Obie could reply.

"They are probably late because they are goofing off." No one but the walls heard him, leaving him alone with his thoughts until the girls arrived.

Imoen burst through the door first. "Ta da! I have arrived o' great and powerful and wise and wonderful Master Obie, wielder of the most powerful magic in Candlekeep and . . ."

The wizard gave a gruff yell. "Enough foolishness and get in here! Where is Mistress Avalon?" he asked, rather irritated by Gorion's instructions.

"I am here Master Obie. Apologies on our tardiness. . . I got into the books a little too deeply." Lilliana's pale skinned face peered around the corner before jumping the rest of the way down the steps. Her hunter green skirt billowed around her ankles making the wizard wonder, not for the first time, how she managed to keep from tripping. Obie gritted his teeth at her explanation of why they were late. "Damn you for being right Gorion." he grumbled under his breath.

Imoen's head shot up. "What'd ya say, old man?"

The mage ignored Imoen's comment and motioned to the small collection of weaponry and armory items he had on tables and held to the wall by clasps. "Just get in here and pick whatever weapon that you want, because we won't be studying tactics like I said we would and neither of you will be using Quarter Staves today. Sir Avalon wishes Mistress Lilliana to start general weapons training this day and since you are here, Mistress Imoen, you will train with Mistress Avalon. The two of you are practically joined together at the hip anyway."

His utter refusal to call Lilliana 'Lady' as befitted her as the daughter of one who had earned the title "Sir' was as adamant as it had always been and the half high-elf ignored it.

Imoen gave a squeak of happiness, that was returned by a smile from Lilliana, as the two picked out weapons.

Lilliana took a war hammer, instantly regretting the decision as the heavy weapon weighted her arms to the floor, but she was determined and after a few tries managed to raise the weapon above foot level.

Imoen took a short sword, and swished it in the air like a mock swashbuckler. Lilliana shrieked in amusement and jumped back as the human girl slashed the air in front of her.

"Careful! We will do this correctly and without any theatrics!" Obie yelled, as the girls' training began.

* * *

Lilliana hovered somewhere between consciousness and sleep that night. She was awoken by cries of horror from the room next to hers. The twenty year old half-elven girl sat bolt up upright in bed and her eyes came open suddenly. "Wha . . . ?" She started to say as her mind drifted completely out of sleep. Now fully awake and alert she listened more intently, her pointed ears perking at the next cry of distress from next door.

She quickly swung her skinny legs out of bed, straightened the long nightgown she wore, and quietly opened the door to her living chamber and padded out into the large main hall None of the wall sconces were left burning all night, however the young ward, as the case with all elven breeds, had infravision to guide her way. Not that she would need it anyway. She had walked this hall and nearly every other hall in Candlekeep since she was no more than eight years old. She knew every flagstone by heart.

At her father's door, she stopped and listened for the sounds of distress that always accompanied her father's more disturbing nightmares. Once she heard them again she opened the heavy wooden door that opened with a slight creek in the hinges.

Her father tossed in bed every now and then, letting out a cry of protest. "Alianna, don't leave me, he will come. That vile thing will come and take you away forever. Alianna, NO!" Gorion spoke in his sleep.

Lilliana took a deep breath and knelt beside her father's bed. Gorion was again dreaming of his wife, Lilliana's mother, and she had heard him speak of her often. Lady Alianna of Ashabenford. Lilliana had never known the half-elf woman that had brought her into the world. She had always assumed that she had died giving birth to her. Perhaps it was the pain of such a parting from his beloved that had led Gorion Avalon to cloister himself away with Lilliana as his only constant companion. Lilliana had no doubts that Gorion had cared deeply for her mother and he married her because he loved her. She had thought that because of this love, it was extremely odd that Gorion Avalon was _not_ her birth father.

It had never been explained to Lilliana. Gorion had said he did not know the man and Lilliana believed him. She had been informed that the man took advantage of her mother and charmed her magically against her will, but that was the extent of her knowledge. Regardless of whatever truths the past held, Lilliana loved Gorion as much and as deeply as any daughter could love a father, and Gorion thought just as much of her. This was why this new recurrence of nightmares bothered her so.

"Papa . . . come now, you are dreaming again." She spoke softly in his ear. Her slender hand gently shaking his shoulder. "Papa, it's all right, you were only having a nightmare."

Gorion slowly awoke to his daughter's gentle voice. "Lilliana?" Her father looked at his ebony haired daughter questioningly, obviously still in the throws of his nightmare.

"Yes, it's me. You were dreaming of my mother again weren't you?"

He stared at his daughter's worried gaze. "Yes. The dreams come more often now than they ever did." He thought for a moment. "Oh dear, I have woken you again haven't I?" He didn't wait for a response. "That makes four times in a week, damn a foolish old man and his foolish dreams!"

Lilliana stopped her father before he could berate himself further. "No, Papa. No one woke me. I just had trouble sleeping and then I heard you. You didn't wake me at all, I promise." She smiled warmly at Gorion.

He shrugged his shoulders, not believing her, but appreciating her efforts at easing his spirits. "Well I'll keep you awake no longer. As I hear it, you have a hard day of conjuration training tomorrow. Go now dearest and get some rest."

Lilliana leaned over and kissed her father's cheek. "Goodnight Papa." She gently closed the door and made her way back to her room. Tucked warmly into her blankets she quickly fell into peaceful slumber.

* * *

Tamoko Zamazo narrowed dark brown eyes into slits as she watched the streets. She hadn't any time to wash the blood from her black tunic and didn't want anyone to see. When the street was clear, the lithe female dashed across the cobbles to the wide doors of the Iron Throne headquarters. Situated near the docks of Baldur's Gate it was one of the tallest buildings in the city, and easy to find. At least, the main lobby. The hidden rooms the structure possessed were known to only a few. Tamoko was one of those few.

The Karaturan slinked her way around pillars and stairwells until she had reached her destination. A dark stained sack swung near her hips as she searched the wall for a certain brick and pressed it, sliding quickly into the opening and closing the secret entrance just as soon. A tall, broad shouldered man was leaning against the wall, looking out a thin window, as she entered.

"I have done as you asked." She stated plainly, her almond shaped eyes not showing a bit of emotion as she flicked a strand of her cropped black hair behind one ear.

Sarevok turned, dressed in the simple but elegant clothing of the nobility of which he belonged. With his build and shining bald head, he was just as fierce without the trademark armor he favored. "Good. What of our 'friend' from Amn?" The warlord asked pleasantly.

"Dead, just as you wanted." Still that vacant look was in Tamoko's eyes.

"And you of course brought me proof?"

Tamoko was not offended by needing to provide proof of a kill. She held up a large black sack, tied at the top. "Here," she offered him the sack.

Sarevok took it slowly and untied the string. Inside was another sack, with a large object inside. When Sarevok opened this second sack his golden eyes lit up. There in the folds of dark fabric (no doubt darkened further by blood staining) was their _friend's_ head.

"Excellent work!" He smiled at Tamoko.

"Another skull for your trophy room perhaps?" she asked.

"Indeed. You have brought me many trophies my beautiful assassin, you are to be commended. What would the lady like as reward?" he asked pleasantly running a hand through his short brown hair. She was a rare treat. Having the wherewithal to wear half plate and battle as the finest warriors of her native Kara-Tur, and the stealth to strike from the shadows. Tamoko was both fighter and executioner, and highly talented at both walks of her life.

"I want nothing from you, my love. That his death has helped you is reward enough. Though I do wonder at why such a wastrel would've mattered to you." She dared, staring up at her lover through thick lashes. She could play the part of demure maiden well, but they both knew she was more like a poisonous asp. It was a fine game to play.

Sarevok stepped close to Tamoko's dainty, but deadly, form. He touched her face, his caress oddly gentle. "You are deserving of many things Mistress Zamazo. Tell me what you would want for and I'll see you get it."

She smiled coyly, the dark sparkle in her eyes the only sign that she was not as docile in her thoughts as she seemed. "As I told you. I want nothing from you." The smile became a smirk as Sarevok growled and yanked her close to claim her thin lips in a hard kiss. They both ignored the blood still splattered on her clothes.

"Nothing?" He asked again, passionate intent laced in every letter, between kisses, and he delighted in the spiral of laughter that came up her throat.

"You are only this way you have another contract in mind. I am not a hired killer, I would have you know." She chastised him, as her arms wound about his neck to draw her up to his height.

"No. This next one I would kill myself, I haven't much faith in the man I hired. I'm a little worried about her adopted father, he is a reputed mage of some power, but it is nothing that I cannot handle with you at my side." He bit her ear, as she tilted her neck back to give him better access.

A knock came to the door and when Sarevok didn't answer immediately the knocking became a pounding and Sarevok reluctantly turned his face away from Tamoko's. Even her normally calm face looked irritated at the intrusion.

"It is late damn it! Speak quickly for I am not pleased at being disturbed!"

A grunt came from the other side. "It's Brunos! Boss man wants a word!"

Sarevok grimaced, "Now?" He did not wait for a response and didn't get one either. He turned back to Tamoko. "My father would not bother me at this late hour unless he had important news." He cupped her chin in his right palm. "I will return shortly." With this, he left Tamoko to her thoughts.

"Come in" Lord Rieltar Anchev spoke in his lightly Sembian accented voice. The knock on the door was followed by the half-orc Brunos' heavy footsteps. Brunos was followed closely by Sarevok's tall form which nearly reached the arch of the door and was far taller than Rieltar's small body. Nonetheless Brunos stood proudly as Sarevok's large frame passed by the half orc body guard and into the humid, dark room.

"You called for me Father?"

Rieltar, unlike his foster son, never grinned and so he answered with a poker face. "Indeed. Tazok has agreed to work with us so we may secure our new mine. This operation must not be interrupted. I am so close to obtaining a seat at the Duke's Chair and if we cannot make sure that our movements remain hidden all of the hard work I've done will be lost. I need you to travel to the ruins at Peldsvale. Tazok will meet you there in the morning. So you must leave early." Rieltar was not done and Sarevok waited as he continued. "I've heard that you have been hiring out assassins to kill off some no names. I can't fathom why these persons have warranted your attention but I will not allow your games to halt our progress. Do what you will, but keep it separate from me or I will have no less than your blood."

Sarevok looked affronted. Even though there was no love lost between Sarevok and his fostered father he had not expected this interference of his business.

"You will make sure that nothing reflects on me, this organization or this family. If you find that you cannot keep your street rats and assassins in check than you will not have time to regret your mistake." What scared people most about Rieltar was his ability to speak every sentence as cold and calculating as if he were reading off a shopping list. This speech was no different but the effect seemed lost on his foster son.

Rieltar looked into Sarevok's eyes when he spoke, staring at his wife's son with a cold gaze. Unlike his mother's eyes and definitely unlike the eyes of a fey lover, that at the time, Rieltar had assumed fathered the child, Sarevok's orbs were a burning gold color. The nobleman remembered the night he had found out about his wife's pregnancy, born out of an affair.

Never a man to throw fits of rage he simply had his wife's lover assassinated . . . an elf bard of little import. Not that it would have mattered to Rieltar how important or unimportant his wife's plaything was. He allowed her to live until she gave birth, waiting until after the birth to kill her. Knowing that her bastard son would prove an asset in his adult years, if he were properly cultivated. Soon after she bore the male child Rieltar had strangled his wife with a deadly garrote. If his life held no truths but one it would be this . . . no living soul crossed Rieltar Aladaine Anchev without paying dearly for it.

At present, however, Rieltar had serious doubts that the petite elf had fathered the large, and human eared man that stood before him. It did not matter though, not then.

The only thing that mattered was acquiring a position of power over the other merchant groups there in the city so he could better secure his place at the Duchal Palace. Once he was on the Duke's Chair Council his organization would be the most powerful, even more so than its Sembia chapter, of which the group had originated. He would not allow his 'son' to do anything to disrupt his attempts at gaining that powerful office.

"I leave you to your work, after all killing off these irritants of yours is _your_ business, but tread carefully. You can do whatever you want with them as long as it does not stain me. Do not be so rushed however. After our family is secure than you can continue your murderous games. Patience is a virtue and you could use some of those. Is that understood Sarevok?"

Sarevok nodded, "Yes Father, of course." As he bowed and took his leave he imagined (_not for the first time either_) Rieltar's death. Once outside the room he smiled wickedly. Perhaps a garrote would be appropriate.

As large as Sarevok was his boots made nary a sound as he made his way down the hall . . . contemplating murders to come. He made his way back to his quarters and found Tamoko meditating in bed. He needed to release some tension.

"Come here." he motioned her over and she slowly rose from the bed and came to his side.

Tamoko looked at her lover. "Your father has gotten under your skin again hasn't he? Why not just kill him?"

Sarevok smiled at his little murderess . . . _oh how he would love to kill that pompous ass_. "When chance and opportunity deem it the right time, he _will_ fall. Patience is a virtue and I could use some of those."

Tamoko looked at him oddly and he laughed. Sarevok's laughter was like thunder booming in the distance, a deep resounding rumble. Not entirely unpleasant however and an uncharacteristic smile formed on the small Karaturan woman's face.

Sarevok grasped his lover's chin and kissed her fervently. They fell into a passionate embrace on the mattress. When Tamoko was with Sarevok like that she felt like she could taste his soul. Tonight they would drown each other's stresses in a sea of passion and the Karaturan welcomed it.

* * *

Morning had come and it touched the spires of Candlekeep like a lover's gentle caress.

Lilliana loved mornings like this, as did many children of the Morning Lord. Lathander, the goodly god of youth and renewal often favored sunlight as was evidenced by the décor of his temples. His 'children' were no different. This sunrise found Lilliana Avalon down past the crags that surrounded the keep and down by the shore line.

She had immersed herself hip deep in the water of the shores of the Sea of Swords, in an alcove near Candlekeep. She could see the fortress standing high on the ridge above the water like a sentinel. The hike down there had to be taken slowly and carefully to avoid falling down the steep slopping path. Imoen had come with her and both girls had stripped down to their undergarments as they got into the water.

The human girl yipped as she almost caught a fish with her hands, falling in the water with a splash. She got back up giggling as water dripped from her soaked hair and onto her rosy cheeked face. "This is too hard Lil!" She complained, hands on her curved hips.

Lilliana smiled, holding a reed basket, filled almost halfway with sea shells. "That's why I'm not trying." She winked playfully as Imoen splashed her with water.

"Are ya gonna make some necklaces with these ones too Lil?"

Lilliana had gotten a small ochre shell; it's abalone like surface glimmering in the early morning sunlight. "I don't know, maybe some hair beads instead."

A small rock fell from the upper craggy natural stone walls of the shore. Lilliana's hair swung back as she raised her face to look at where it had come from. "Did you . . . did you see that?" She asked, pointing above her.

Imoen turned quickly and looked, using one of her hands as a shield for her eyes as she squinted. 'What? I don't see nothin'" She continued looking, thinking that maybe Lilliana's half-elven sight had spotted something that her human eyes could not.

The elfess sighed, her eyes still stuck on a copse of trees and shrubs on the ridge above them. "Nothing I guess . . . I thought I saw . . . something." Drawing her eyes back to her sister she shrugged apologetically.

Imoen quirked an eyebrow. "What is it ya thought you saw?"

Lilliana blinked several times. "I, well, I don't know really, somebody or maybe an animal. Heh, nothing probably, just a tree that looked like something else from the corner of my eye. Let's just get back home before Hull is sent out to come look for us again."

Imoen nodded as the two got dressed and started up the hill, kicking loose pebbles with their feet. When they reached the top of the path, Hull was indeed waiting for them, hands on his armored hips in a much more severe stance than Imoen had taken earlier.

"Geezum, don't you have nothin better to do than stalk us?" The red head pouted petulantly.

Hull's already deep scowl deepened. "Sir Avalon has asked me to keep an eye on you, don't make it any easier to dislike than it already is. Don't you two know that it isn't safe to fool around in the surf unattended? There are slaughter fish, razor fins, and nymphs. ."

Lilliana started to laugh, Imoen quickly joining in, and they left Hull standing there wordless.

"Why should two females be afraid of nymphs? Maybe you should come with us next time and you'll get lucky." Imoen pointed out.

The man's face started to get red but to his credit he kept his temper in check. "Ahem, yes well . . . Imoen, Winthrop wants you to head back to the inn and help with the morning cleaning. He says he wants that lobby as clean as an elven arse."

Imoen scowled and kicked a stone. "Aww man! This stinks! Well. . See ya Lil." She waved sadly as if she would never be seen again. Everyone knew that there was nothing Imoen hated more than chores.

Lilliana was about to start walking off when Hull blocked her path. "Ah-ah-ah, not so fast. You have some chores, also, from your father. Here. . "He handed her a pouch of coins.

"What are these for?" She questioned.

"How in the blazes should I know? He just said to give you that."

Lilliana crinkled her face in consternation. "Well . . . here, take this back to the keep for me." The half high-elf handed the tall guard her basket of sea shells.

"I'm not a damn man servant!" He yelled after her as she jogged off, her skirt swishing.

She turned quickly and smiled at him cutely. "No, you are a _woman_ servant. Thank you Hull!" Blowing him a playful kiss, that she knew would only irritate him further, she headed off past the walls of the keep, through the open gate.

It was oh so enjoyable to tease the guards here, though she knew it wasn't lady like. Her playful smile faded from her face as she rounded the corner of a warehouse. The pouch of coins felt heavy in her palm as she slowly opened it. A piece of folded parchment was within and Lilliana took it out. It was a note from her father.

_**Lilliana,**_

_**I'm sure that you are now reading this wondering why you have been given a pouch of coins. I can't explain myself fully, not yet, but suffice it to say that the coins are for personal items. I wish you to go see Master Voltaire and purchase some traveling supplies for yourself including, but not limited to, weaponry, armor, a water canteen, sturdy boots and the like.**_

_**Right now I'm sure you don't understand any of this but I will try to explain more later. Know that this isn't a game or a test but something of the direst importance.**_

_**Signed,**_

_**Your Loving Father.**_

_**Note: Make sure Master Voltaire gives you a fair price, he is our good friend but that doesn't mean he isn't still a shrewd business man.**_

The note left her more confused than she had been before, nonetheless she did as her father asked and hours later had herself equipped. The weapon she had chosen to practice with earlier in the week was the same weapon she chose to buy. The war hammer was far too large for her unused muscles and proved to be quite heavy, but Lilliana had taken a liking to war hammers, much preferred over quarter staves, and had convinced both herself and Winthrop that she was more than able to learn how to use the weapon better. Ringed half-chain mail hung on her frame loosely. It had been too slack to wear upon purchase and a maid at the inn had to help the twenty year old half-elf into the armor. She felt utterly ridiculous.

Winthrop Voltaire was the owner and proprietor of the Candlekeep Inn. He also ran a small store on the first floor of the inn that catered mostly to the tourists that visited the famed library fortress. He did a decent business and had given Lilliana a price on her items that she felt was more than fair. The tall and portly man was also Imoen's care giver and ran a much tighter house than Lilliana's own father did.

He was a kindly man, easing slowly into his graying years, and had given Lilliana a woven knapsack free of charge. Imoen had nick named the man "windbags" which rather fit considering how much he talked about elves and his slew of complaints about the world outside Candlekeep's austere walls. She also liked to call him "puff guts" due to his rather round figure. Lilliana didn't dare to call him either.

Lilliana smiled as she now thought about the aging innkeeper. It was because of her inward musings that she was distracted when a skinny man ran right into her.

"Oomph!" If she had still been wearing her dress instead of breeches with a thin mail covering it would have given the man a nice view. Dressed as she was now she only skidded backwards on her butt a ways. Embarrassed, she was quick to get up. "Sorry! Sorry, sorry, I didn't see you." Her tongue ran away with apologies.

The man she had collided with was dusting himself off. The hooded cloak he wore had kept him concealed until it fell off. His prominent pointed ears gave him away as a full blooded elf and by the looks of him he was a wood elf. Dark brown hair ran cropped near the front and braided in the back. It framed an olive skinned face in which were two greenish-brown eyes. Right now those eyes looked miffed.

"Excuse me my. … _Lady_." The title seemed a little forced through his lips, his voice soft yet strong and deep.

Lilliana had usually been referred as that with more sincerity in the tone of those addressing her as such. She wondered now why he sounded so averse to calling her a lady, until she remembered what she was wearing and how she must look. She blushed all the way to her toes in embarrassment. _Could this day get any worse?_

"I - I really am sorry I was just . . . preoccupied. Lady Lilliana Avalon." She held out a thin hand to the male wood elf.

He looked at it as if it might bite him before removing one of the leather gloves he wore and shook her hand. "Do you always carry weapons too big for your size Lilliana?"

This time it was Lilliana's turn to look miffed. "I'll have you know . . . Sir . . . That I am more than capable of learning how to use a war hammer!"

His face didn't look like it had had a smile on it in about a decade, but his lips slowly curled up into a grin at her statement. "I'm sure you are, now if you will excuse me."

The elf walked right past her as quickly as if she were little more than a pebble he had walked on.

"Don't you have a name?" She asked after him.

He stopped long enough to turn about and regard her briefly. "Yes." His form retreated around the corner of the inner wall, without offering a name and leaving Lilliana flabbergasted.

"How rude!" She yelled out, not sure if the elf had heard her and not particularly caring. Her countenance was still angry when she stopped by the head priest's quarters to begin her conjuration training.

"Hello? Master Sestina?"

The small building was empty, the only sounds were the popping of embers in the hearth, making the home a far bit warmer then it was outside. Lilliana wasn't sure why Elsen Sestina wasn't in his home, since he was never late and knew that he was training her this morning.

A thin male voice spoke from the shadows of the main room, making Lilliana jump slightly. "Oh I'm sorry miss, but Master Sestina is unavailable and will be that way in a rather permanent fashion." A tall thin man, bedecked in gray attire entered the dim light of the fire.

Lilliana was immediately on alert, this man's very presence giving her the chills. "What do you mean? What has happened to him? Who are you?"

The man smiled, his mouth visible from underneath his hood. "So many questions and all un-important. What has happened to the priest isn't of importance at all, and my name is Shank though in a few moments that won't matter either . . . not to you, and who _you_ are is very important."

The half high-elf could sense his ill intentions and was on the defense. Lilliana went to raise the war hammer but she overcompensated and fell against the wall. The man took out a dagger from a hip sheath as he laughed and advanced on her. She screamed for help and went for the door but he beat her to it, blocking her way and shoving her onto the floor.

"Ah, ah, now don't make this harder than it has to be Miss Avalon. It's not personal after all, just business."

Lilliana kicked the man in the face and she scrambled away from him and grabbed a poker from the fire, waving it in front of her. "Don't touch me or I swear I'll . . . "

The assassin glared and came forward anyway; snickering as he knocked her arm aside after she made a lunge for him. "You'll what? Be a good girl and. . . . Ack!" He shouted in surprise, which ended in a gurgle.

Lilliana's eyes widened as she peeked from the shield she had made with her arms to see a feather tipped arrow sticking out of her attacker's neck. His own eyes went glassy as he slumped to the ground as the owner of that arrow shot another through the then open doorway and into the assassin's chest, followed by the last one that's target had the same path as the second.

A wood elf face peered into the room followed by the rest of the male elf's body; holding his bow ready. Finally he eased down his weapon, his eyes moving to the half-elf he had met only moments before. "Are you injured?"

Lilliana could only stare at the dead assassin, as she cowered by the fireplace. The elf repeated his inquiry but there was no answer and he was shoved aside as a yellow robed priest ran into the home, glancing at the dead man, the elf and finally Lilliana.

"What in the name of Oghma happened?! Lilliana, are you alright?! Oh my child!" The elder priest went to the girl and embraced her shocked frame.

Finally she seemed to register what had occurred and sobbed against the priest's shoulder. "Oh Master Parda it was awful! He-he tried to kill me, and I-I think he killed Master Sestina! I don't even know who he was! Why? Why would he do that?"

The silver haired priest shook his head, holding Lilliana's sobbing body tightly against his own. "I do not know my child. Come, let us get you out of here."

With the scene surveyed by the watchers, marked by their usual late arrival, the wood elf and the half-elf were questioned many times.

Lilliana made her way over to the group of watchers, centering her attention on the wood elf. "Excuse me, but I just . . . well I wanted to thank you. If you hadn't come when you did I'm certain that I would be . . ." She swallowed, uncomfortable with how close she had really been to being killed. "Thank you." She smiled shyly and walked away but the elf's voice called her back.

"Wait! Lilliana isn't it?" She nodded, unsure of what he might say next. "If you want to thank me I think you could use my name." This time it was the elf that extended his hand first. "Kivan Alieradon."

Lilliana shook his hand gladly. "Thank you Master Alieradon."

* * *

"Will you please tell me where we are going Papa?! Mystery does not suit you!" Lilliana questioned the man that had raised her all her life more harshly then she had intended and winced at her own tone. When she noticed the sadness in Gorion's eyes she made an attempt at an apology but ceased when the aging sage began to speak.

"I . . . I cannot say where we are headed Lilliana, not beyond our immediate destination."

The half-elf tried desperately to not become exasperated, but that line had been crossed long ago. "And where is _that_?! I do not mean to be aggressive it is simply that all this. . this _cloak and dagger _is beyond me. I read of situations such as this only in books. How I am to simply go along with such abrupt actions? Are we ever to return to Candlekeep? I had thought we were leaving in the morning . . . I haven't even said goodbye to everyone!"

Gorion shook his head, the gray cloak he now wore aging in a similar fashion as he was himself. "I am too old for this." He lamented rather humorlessly, earning a sour look from his daughter.

"Papa . . . Too old for _what_? Please, tell me."

The sage leaned upon a carved oak staff, the engravings that of the Avalon family whose heritage traced back to the earliest years of Waterdeep. He sighed deeply before he spoke, his voice one that held in it all the calm he could muster. Lilliana was too young and he had kept her too sheltered, he understood that now. She wasn't ready for the situation they were finding themselves in.

"We are in danger. I was hoping that I could shield you from it, but it seems that not even the walls of Candlekeep can dissuade our pursuers. An old friend sent me a letter last week, somehow he knows of a group of several such pursuers that could attack here at any moment. Given your encounter at the priest's quarters today it seems that the first wave is almost upon us and we must leave. Not only for _your_ safety but that of those that reside here as well. They have no place in this struggle. I cannot say now whether we could ever return here. This is why they cannot know exactly when we leave because then we risk our friends trying to leave with us to protect us. I can't have that. Not even as short a distance as it will be to the Friendly Arm. There are other reasons as well, though I can't get into them now."

Lilliana took all this in with an expected look of puzzlement on her face. "Today that . . . that _man, _he said that my identity was very important. I'm assuming that I had been marked as a target and now with what you have said . . . Papa why would I be a mark on an assassins list? No one even knows me beyond these walls. I am but the daughter of a great sage; I am nothing important on my own."

Gorion shook his head, a sad smile on his face as he gently brushed Lilliana's cheek. "Oh my dear child, if you but realized how truly precious you are . . . But no, now is not the time for such talk. We must depart immediately and make way for the Friendly Arm Inn; there are two members of the Harpers waiting for us there. They have long been friends of mine and though it has been some time since we spoke they still have my trust. We will talk more when we arrive."

The half-elf girl made to intervene with another question, primarily one about why they would be dealing with Harpers. That group was made up of those who strived to create a greater balance on the planet of Abertoril and her father felt that good had more a place than evil, not a balance of the two.

Gorion silenced any further inquiries from her as he blew out the candle, enveloping the room in darkness before he opened the door to the hall and carried out what little luggage they had. They had brought only one large sack each to carry their clothes and traveling supplies.

Lilliana was dressed in a traveling suit. Her chain mail had been placed over this attire and she felt weighted down but Gorion had insisted she wear it. The sack she carried was full but she was managing, though the war hammer at her back felt impossibly heavy. Reevor, the old dwarf that ran the Candlekeep warehouse, had given her a weapons sash that went around her chest and over one shoulder to hold the war hammer (handle down) in the metal studded clasps located at the back. Right now the war hammer's head was bulging under her dark teal cloak.

Gorion was dressed in a magi's traveling robe and a woolen gray cloak, his staff being used a walking stick at the moment while his free hand held the leather knapsack at his back. He turned briefly to glance at the wardrobe. There was a letter in there for Lilliana, but it wasn't time yet and his voice would have to say what she would have heard had she made it that far. . far enough to know. The letter would be left behind.

Sconces dotted the open hallway, its archways leading into a widely spaced reading room (one of several in Candlekeep) where the main stairwell was located. Gorion checked for any guards before motioning Lilliana forward. He placed a finger over his mouth to suggest silence and Lilliana grumpily complied.

Neither of them noticed the red headed girl that was following stealthily behind them.

The two of them snuck through the building and out into the courtyard, as quiet as thieves and in the case of Gorion, feeling just as guilty as if he had stolen something. He cast a minor sleep spell on the two watchmen at the gate to the keep and as they passed by

Lilliana gave Candlekeep one more forlorn gaze. _'Goodbye . . . My home of fortitude.'_

* * *

Sarevok stood atop the odd stones that marked the fields outside Candlekeep's protective walls. Walls that at least one of his assassins had managed to breech. He was awaiting another, this one sent on a task to observe Lilliana Avalon in case anything with Shank should go wrong. His small group had been sent to meet with the half-ogre Tazok so they could coordinate a security plan for Rieltar's mine in the Cloakwood and this small side trip to meet with his father's personal spy and assassin hadn't taken very long. Truth be told Sarevok considered himself lucky that he had managed to give the over paid man enough coins to do a few tasks for him _instead_ of Rieltar.

"He is taking too long. I told you he wasn't one that you wanted working for you. All his former employers are dead, that should've clued you in. Your father is foolish to keep him on the payroll." Tamoko spoke from Sarevok's side, earning a glare that told her to back off and she wisely did just that.

"He is the best tracker in his field. His personal beliefs may be a bit odd but I think that's what gives him his edge, but Nimbul isn't crazy enough to cross _me_." The tall human spoke slowly, feeling at home out here in the wild with the wolves howling out their song. Too long had he been in the city, but he knew that that was where he needed to be.

Sarevok's father had hired Nimbul on as his personal spy and Sarevok was allowed only temporary use of the assassin. It seemed a waste to have him just watch the girl and her father, but Sarevok was curious _and besides why use someone of Nimbul's talents on a simple young librarian when a street urchin could do the job?_ There was such a thing as overkill.

"Shank was unsuccessful." A whispering voice came from the trees to Sarevok's right and everyone but the warlord jumped in surprise.

Sarevok smiled wickedly in greeting. "Ah, Nimbul. Good of you to finally join us. I had anticipated that there was a chance he might not be able to get the girl alone."

Nimbul laughed, the sound making Tamoko's skin crawl. "Oh, you misunderstand me Master Anchev. He got her alone, but he failed to watch his own back. There was an elf that was looking out for this ward of Gorion's and he killed the ill fated Shank. I'd say it was a loss but then I'd be lying and the crows always peck the eyes from liars."

Sarevok glowered at this. "He was killed? Tell me, did he speak of who hired him for the task?"

Nimbul shook his hood enshrouded head, nearly blending into the shadows with his inky black assassin's garb. His whispery voice seemed to also want to blend with the darkness of the woods at nightfall. "No. There was not even the mention of the bounty itself, I listened thoroughly." With this the sociopath tracker smiled. "I did enjoy the sound of his gurgling last breath. My ears also picked out a few more tidbits as well as my ever seeing eyes. . . .the ward and her father are leaving Candlekeep tonight. You could finish both of them this very eve."

The large warlord seemed quite pleased with this and nodded to Nimbul, formulating a plan quickly.

Nimbul listened carefully as Sarevok spoke with the few he had with him, including that devil Karaturan Tamoko (how he despised the female) but all the while his brain was busy thinking on his own schemes. Empathic assassins were rare and Nimbul realized his own value as one of the few who could see people's auras and as such also read their emotions. It gave him added pleasure in a kill as well, as he could feel the dying essence of his victim slowly seeping out of their body and into his. Now he thought about how it might feel to absorb the essence of the girl.

He had watched her for some time, for longer amounts than he had been hired to do, and found her to be quite lovely. Most human females had reached their physical maturity by the time they were twenty but a half-elf developed physically at the same rate as a human until they had reached two decades of life and then the elven half of their heritage, that which took a far longer amount of time to mature, began to take over. On the outside she was rather plain and childish in appearance but her aura was exquisite in it's bright light. A beautiful woman was no rarer than a freshly mined jewel but this girl, this half-elf, had an aura that gave off such a glow that it made Nimbul's own soul ache to feel hers. He wanted . . . No. . . . he _needed_ to be the one that took her life.

The assassin knew he couldn't interfere with Sarevok but he did know that there might be a moment where he could save the girl's fate for a later time. A time that _Nimbul_ not _Sarevok_ could enjoy it. It was dark out and he moved swiftly. He knew he could easily protect the girl if he needed to, without being detected by his employer or the man's other cohorts. Lilliana's father was of no importance however and perhaps the key was in letting the focus remain on the old man and not the girl.

* * *

Gorion was wary of the woods they had entered.

Lilliana was very curious that they weren't going to follow the road but when she asked her father about it he simply insisted that the road wasn't safe at night. Were these dark tall trees, hiding perhaps legions of hungry creatures prowling the darkness for their next meal, truly any safer? The half high- elf wondered this as a sharp snapping to the pair's right caught her attention. Her point tipped ears listened for further noises but heard nothing but the normal noises of the night.

Gorion had apparently discounted the snapping as an animal stepping on a twig and continued on the move.

The half high-elf hoped there were no spider webs hanging near her face when she couldn't see them. Lilliana was horribly afraid of arachnids since she had stumbled upon a nest of giant spiders when she was five and would have been eaten had her father not come to the rescue. Tethtoril called such a mental worry 'arachnophobia.' It could paralyze Lilliana with fear and even now she was worried about even the tiniest spider jumping upon her from the shadowed trees.

She could see in the night with infravision, that which gave her a view of heat signatures, and Gorion had cast a spell upon himself to mimic the elvish ability that he lacked by nature. There were small animals she could see but nothing else.

They passed into an open thicket, beset by stones in the ground set into a pattern that created the mark of Candlekeep.

Lilliana knew these stones well, even at night though they had never made her feel as vulnerable as they did now, being out here in the open. Her instinct to be wary proved to be accurate when a puff of oddly warm smoke appeared before the pair. She got her war hammer out and her father prepared himself for danger as well.

When the smoke dissipated a group of five stood before them. Two humans wearing either the garb of thieves or assassins, two large orcs and a massive man wearing a suit of horrid armor resembling that of some kind of monster. This large man spoke to Gorion. Those with him held their ground, unmoving as of yet.

"Hand over your ward and you will not be hurt. "

Gorion laughed humorlessly at the armored man's request. "First you ask me to hand my daughter over to you and then you say you will not hurt me. Are you to insinuate that you mean us no harm? Were you intending on taking her out for a day of shopping? You must be an imbecile if you believe I would trust _your_ benevolence. You are even more obtuse to think that I would value my own well being over that of my child."

The armored man sneered. "If you resist it shall be a waste of your life."

Again Gorion refused. "And your speech is a waste of _breath_. I won't hand over my daughter to you or anyone else. Leave us be and step aside . . . If you do then you and your lackeys may leave here unharmed, if not it will be _you _that falls this night."

Lilliana gripped the handle of her hammer tighter taking a small step forward. "Papa." She whispered to her father.

Gorion held an arm protectively in front of her. "No, I will handle this."

The tall man growled low in his throat. "Than you are a fool old man, and you will DIE A FOOL!" With that he gave commands to those with him as the attack began.

Lilliana went against her father's orders and began to foolishly charge the female assassin . . . an enemy that was quite obviously more adept at combat than she was. The heavy hammer weighted her down and though the adrenaline flowing through her frightened and angry frame allowed her to swing it above her head the weight still brought it down far from its intended target.

The Karaturan woman glared at her with almond shaped eyes and pulled a throwing knife rapidly from a casing at her hip before Lilliana could get the hammer off the ground again. The poisonous little blade flew through the air and imbedded itself deep into the half-elf's left shoulder.

"Aaaiiee!" She yelled out, shocked and in pain.

Gorion yelled her name as he shot a massive magical flame at the two orcs, who were now running and screaming.

Another knife from the female assassin was prepared and would have hit Lilliana yet again had a shadowy form not knocked the attacker off her feet. She yelled in surprise and the moments, though short they were, that she took to regain her focus finally gave Lilliana the time to raise her hammer again. Before she could strike her father's voice rang out to her above the din of the heavy combat he was locked in.

"Run Lilliana!"

The hurried actions that seemed to spin about the young cleric made her dazed. She could see the Karaturan woman readying another throw and also from the corner of her eye she could see that her father had killed the two orcs and his attention was now on the assassin.

"I said go! " Gorion screamed as he cast a hail of magical acidic arrows that shot themselves at the woman who had to run to avoid many of them, though two sent her sprawling onto the ground in pain.

Lilliana swung her hammer around in a wide arc as she spun her body in the direction of the assassin. The armored fiend was forgotten as she went after the Karaturan. Her father yelled something undistinguishable and Lilliana soon realized that the tall armored man was behind her and had grabbed a hold of her.

"Now you won't escape you little whelp." He was laughing low in his throat as Lilliana still stared at the assassin, who lay on the ground wounded and moaning.

"Get away from my daughter!" The sage drew out a jeweled dagger and threw himself at the fiend. The blade sunk deep into an exposed section of the man's shoulder and he dropped Lilliana to turn on Gorion.

"Papa! Don't!"

The tall man smiled as if he were enjoying this battle as easily as if it were a game. A huge angry looking sword, carved with a hilt that seemed to match the monstrous armor, was pulled from a black scabbard and thrust through Gorion's chest before the aging sage could react.

"NOOO!" Lilliana screamed. Fierce anger ran through her and she flung herself at the armored man, her throbbing blood giving her the strength to raise the war hammer high. It connected with the fiend's back but his armor reflected it as if it was nothing but a small stone.

The sword was pulled from Gorion's chest; the sage's face a dying mask of pain. "Lil . . .li. . . ianna . ." He croaked out, using what little energy he had left to cast a protective ward around his daughter.

Both Lilliana and the tall armored murderer banged against it, wanting to get at each other for very different reasons but with the same goal in mind. Lilliana's glowing green eyes were giving off dark sparks of unadulterated hatred.

"We will get her . . . another time. Her protector is . . . finished this night." The Karaturan spoke in labored breaths, now standing next to the armored man and holding her chest on one side. He looked at her and then back at the angry face of Lilliana, who seemed to want to be outside the protective magical barrier so she could tear his eyes out. He smiled, looking at the prone form of Gorion and then bringing his face as close to the magical barrier as it would allow.

"We won't see each other again little half-elf. Your guardian is gone and you are all alone now. If it takes all the assassins in the world to rid Faerûn of your presence than so be it. I am a patient man and while killing you myself would be enjoyable, you are but spittle on the ground of the world and it matters not who finishes you off."

He pointed the sword in Lilliana's direction. "You are dead!" Laughing he walked past Gorion and spit on him, helping his Karaturan assassin away from the site and into the darkened woods.

"I'll kill you! Do you hear me?! I'll rip your black heart out!" Lilliana screamed at their retreating forms and banged futilely against the magical barrier. It was no use and she couldn't do anything but wait until her father's spell faded.

Sarevok smiled at the girl's scream as he and his lover entered the woods that would lead them away from the area. This little ward couldn't be _that_ much trouble, especially not that her 'precious papa' had been removed from the equation, and he was certain that no more than two more bounty hunters would be needed to finish her off. One thought plagued his mind about that evening, and it wasn't that he missed out on a kill. There were many more chances for him to satiate his blood lust. No, what bothered him was where in the devil Nimbul had gotten off to.

Sarevok was lucky that the empathic human had agreed to scout for him even while still in Rieltar's employ, but that didn't mean he liked it when the man just disappeared in the heat of battle. Whenever Sarevok saw the sly assassin again he would be sure to question him quite thoroughly.

* * *

The moon had come out and was breaking through the clouds that had been in the night sky previously. Its glow seemed gentle, as if the mighty gods thought enough anger had passed through the world that eve. The spring air was cool and misty, hanging low to the ground and made the blades of untouched grass seem to glitter like the stars above. This subtle beauty was lost on Lilliana who sat and waited for the blue glow of the sanctuary spell to dissipate and allow her to go to her father.

Lilliana could still hear him breathing, though they had become more ragged breaths with every passing second it seemed. She didn't want to call out to him for fear that his response would take his _last _breath. Her own breathing was shallow, though she didn't have the care to notice it. The poison let loose in her veins by the assassin's insidious throwing knife was working its way through her body. Had not that shadowy figure knocked the evil woman off her feet it was doubtless that Lilliana would be dead. She couldn't even think about whom that might have been now though.

Blue magical glaze turned into a light mist and was blown away by a small gust of wind. The spell had reached its end and Lilliana hurried as best she could to her father.

"Papa!" She finally cried out to him, curling up to his side. Her left arm throbbed so badly that it sat limp against the ground, holding the then useless war hammer. She couldn't remember being injured there but she must have been.

With her right arm she leaned herself up so she could look upon Gorion's face, touching it gently with her hand. "You hold on . . . Papa. I'll get you out of here."

The sage smiled and Lilliana was horrified to see a fresh trickle of blood running from the corner of his half opened mouth. His voice was fading. "You . . . are too injured. If . . . you . . . do not get aid . . . you shall die."

The half-elf ignored him and began to conjure a cure for his wounds, but her talents as a cleric were not great enough to heal a fatal wound; she refused to admit it. Lilliana yelled in frustration each time it failed. She finally stopped, fighting to hold back tears of defeat.

"I . . . I can't do it! I'm sorry Papa! Just . . . just hold on and I'll get help!" Her body felt as if it had gained so much weight that she could no longer lift it from the ground and her vision was beginning to blur. It took much effort but she managed to kneel up on shaking knees.

Gorion reached out to her with a bloodstained hand. "It is no good . . . Lilliana. I am not. . . not long for this world. I . . . will use what strength I have left to heal you. You . . . you cannot die. You are too important!"

Lilliana sat again, knowing she couldn't get up and that her father was right when he said she would die if her wound was left untreated. The poison would soon reach her heart and stop it from beating.

"No papa! I don't care about that. You . . . you have taken care of me my whole life. It is _you_ that are important; the great sage Gorion Avalon . . . I am no one important. I have to save you."

The dying man coughed, gouts of crimson staining the neckline of his robe. "No, there is nothing for it. I will _not _be saved but you . . . you _must_ be saved. I . .. I am sorry I can't explain it to you. I am sorry that I sheltered you from your heritage but I . . . I did it out of love. As I pass now . . . I do it out of love. I have lived a . . . a full life. Raising you has been my greatest achievement; watching you grow into a capable young woman. You will. . you will carry with you the . . . hope of the future."

Each word seemed an effort, but even in her denial Lilliana knew he felt that he had to get them out. She held his hand in her own as he raised the other to stroke her cheek. The half high-elf could feel his healing magic, much stronger than anything _she_ was capable of, easing into her body and she now had the strength to cry.

"Papa don't leave me! I need you. I love you, I love you _so_ much. Oh gods, please Papa!"

Lilliana cried for her father, desperately and silently praying to any god that she could to spare his life; begging Lathander to help her father.

He smiled, accepting his death. "Do not cry for me, for I . . . I go to your mother and together we . . . we will watch your journey. For though . . . though you know it not . . . you are more rare and special then you could know. I . . . I love . . . you . . . my dearest Lilliana and I . . . "

His voice collapsed as his hand fell from his daughter's face for the last time. Gorion's eyes looked up into the night sky but saw nothing. The girl gently closed his eyelids.

Lilliana screamed her anguish out into the woods until her own voice went silent.

She fell atop her dead father and sobbed; frail shoulders shaking as her grief gnawed away at her insides.

A gurgling noise made Lilliana raise her head. Heavy tears caused her vision to be blurry but after rubbing her them, the sight before her began to clear.

A ghoul had emerged from the trees, drawn by the scent of freshly killed meat. It snorted and sniffed at the ground with its rotted gray face; long gangly arms pawing at the ground like a dog as it finally spotted the two orc corpses along with Lilliana and her father.

The war hammer the half high-elf brought with her was still on the ground and with her injuries healed she could lift it once again. A dark look came into her eyes and she gripped the handle of her weapon so tightly that her knuckles must have been turning white.

Raw emotions of fresh grief and deep anger filled her veins with adrenaline and, unlike the battle that had claimed her father's life, there was now only _one_ opponent.

"Come if you are coming you ugly thing! You'll not be feasting on my father tonight!" Lilliana yelled out to the creature.

A sickly smile spread across its features and in the bright moonlight it was obvious that its milky white eyes were focused on the girl. Ghouls were scavengers by nature but they were driven by their undead hunger and they were not averse to going after living prey. "Mmm. Flessh! Me like flessh!" The voice was gravelly and it made a sickened pit in Lilliana's stomach.

It's dragging foot falls quickened, bringing the creature closer to the cleric but still she stood her ground, preparing her war hammer for the first swing. She smiled as it was upon her.

"Yes that's it!"

Her façade was almost giddy as she swung at the creature, connecting with its head. It produced a loud crack and the ghoul wailed in pain but was not down. It growled and came at her again, deformed arms reaching for her.

The war hammer that she had barely been able to lift before came up easily and swung as if it weighed nothing at all. In Lilliana's delirious anger she thought it merely the adrenaline of her emotions. She was not aware of a dark seed that had taken hold and begun to sprout inside her. All her pain and all her anger was focused in on that one enemy and with each successful hit a small speck of bitterness was replaced with a dark and comforting feeling.

Even after the creature had been dispatched she continued to attack it. Driving the war hammer down again and again until there was nothing left of the ghoul but a bloody mess. Lilliana smiled down at her kill and kneeled by it. The stench of its body was sickening but she barely noticed it, lost in her own delirium. Her face still a mask of crazed joy she dug her hands into the remains and drew them out to run her fingers over her face.

_Let the blood wash away the pain; embrace the destruction of this foul creature as your comfort._

The appealing idea festered in her mind and she would have been content to make further ruin of the body but then she saw her father on the ground and reality came back like the shock of icy water.

"Papa." She sobbed softly, going over to her father to lay with him once again, now covered with the fluids of the decimated ghoul.

* * *

Imoen had been a street urchin in her earliest years. She never was quite able to remember who her birth parents were or how she wound up living on the streets but all her memories before Candlekeep were of a life spent under the 'care' of various thieves guilds. Not much of her young existence had been pleasant and she preferred to block it out. Like Lilliana she had spent her childhood on the run but had spent much of her life afterward behind Candlekeep's safe walls.

It had been sometime since she had been outside them and without any protection. Now she had nothing but her bow and the simple leather armor she had _borrowed_ from her foster father's store.

She was standing by the cross roads, the direction to the west was the Lion's Way and it led to Candlekeep and back the way she had come. The small human thief was expecting to at least spot Lilliana and Gorion but she couldn't see in the dark and was lucky just to have found the large stone marker for the road. It pointed the way to the Coast Way which ran either north to Friendly Arm Inn and Baldur's Gate beyond or south to Beregost and then further to Nashkel.

If Lilliana and Gorion had followed the road they would be headed north, to the massive Friendly Arm Inn. Nosey Imoen had read the elder sage's notes that far. She sighed in defeat as she realized that they hadn't followed the road. _I should have been more watchful!_ Chiding herself did no good or as ole' puff guts Winthrop would say 'no use crying over spilled ale, just order yourself another mug or two' She smiled briefly thinking about her caretaker before she again thought on what to do.

A cry from the foreboding darkness of the woods caught her attention.

As the noises continued, even sheltered Imoen could recognize the sounds of battle from her much younger (and much less sheltered) days in the city. What help she could be without being able to see properly was in question, but her heart was a goodly one and she would do what she could.

Imoen wrestled through tangled branches and weeds, fighting the urge not to make a vocal remark at the many scratches she had already attained. Finally she reached a clearing and the moon, shining brightly over the land, gave her a view of what had gone on.

She was too late to help.

There were two dead orc bodies lying on the ground, their flesh looking burned and smelling that way as well. A large bloody mess of meat lay past the orcs, so mutilated that Imoen had no idea what it was. Beyond that were two figures, one slumped over the other. There was no wind tonight and Imoen could clearly hear soft singing coming from one of them.

"He . . . Hello?" The human girl called out tentatively, hoping that it wasn't foolish to call out like that. While she couldn't see the other two that well she could tell they weren't orcs, but that didn't mean they were friendly.

There was no answer and Imoen took timid steps forward until the moon clearly outlined the two bodies on the ground. One living and one dead.

Imoen placed a hand over her mouth to stifle the sound of horror and grief that would have been forthcoming.

Gorion Avalon lay dead on the earth, darkened by his spilled life blood. Lilliana sat beside her father's corpse, holding his head in her lap as she swayed softly, crooning to him as she sang a whispery gentle lullaby. The song was broken by the interspersed sobs and the wavering voice of the one who sang it.

"Come with me . . . me, for to see the . . . the light. I can see it well with you . . with you by my side. "Lilliana's face was vacant, though the moonlight glinted off streaming tears that ran down her cheeks as she sang for her dead father. The sight made Imeon's heart break and she called out again, heavy sobs now marring her own voice.

"Oh gods Lil! Oh gods. . . I . . . What happened?!"

Her sister finally looked up and what Imoen saw in Lilliana's eyes terrified her. The blank stare was nearly black with raw emotion.

"Imoen?" The half high-elf queried, though it was more recognition than a question.

Looking over at Lilliana in the moonlight she saw that her sister was covered with a substance that was very likely blood. Imoen was in shock, not sure what to say.

"You snuck out to help us didn't you? I guess . . . I guess I knew you might do something like that. Will you help me? I need to take him back to Candlekeep." Lilliana's voice didn't sound like her own at all and it's abrupt coldness made Imoen feel uneasy.

"Maybe a priest can resurrect . . . " Imoen started and almost screamed when Lilliana rushed at her, yelling loud enough to scare off some small animals.

"NO! His body is broken Imoen. He was stabbed through the chest and his vital organs are not all intact. Would you have me raise my father as a . . . as a shadow?! Some mindless thing?!"

Imoen shook her head, scared by her best friend's outburst and Lilliana looked apologetic.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell. I just . . . I can't think. Can you just help me wrap him up and carry him? He'll be happy at Candlekeep."

Imoen smiled, not knowing if her sister could see it or not. "Course' I will. I'm so sorry Lil. Gods breath I'm sorry!"

The half-elf stood on legs that seemed too weak to hold her weight and looked over at her sister. She couldn't hear any sympathy, not then, maybe not ever. It was too much. Lilliana raised her tear stained face.

"Don't say that . . . I can't . . . I can't hear that."

Imoen nodded. Seeds of sorrow were sewing themselves into Imoen's heart. She too had cared for Gorion and though she was closer to Winthrop she felt that a great loss had occurred this night. She set aside that sorrow for her sister.

"I'll help however I can."

* * *

The two girls had toiled the rest of the night, first finding a way to move the body, then managing to drag it to Candlekeep.

Imoen kept worrying that any moment Lilliana would begin to cry hysterically and the human wouldn't know what to do. So far her sister hadn't done that and Imoen admired her resolve. Lilliana had relayed what had occurred that night, and though Imoen imagined she was leaving much out she didn't press her to speak of more than she wished to. If she did, the resolve that had amazingly been holding Lilliana in place might just crumble.

Last night it had taken all the will Imoen had to suggest to her best friend that they take the items Gorion was carrying. Lilliana had reacted almost violently to the suggestion at first, until Imoen pointed out that they might need the items to find the man that had murdered Sir Avalon. Finally Lilliana had agreed and thusly she was not only carrying her pack, but her father's as well. Gorion's staff she had insisted be buried with him.

Imoen had found a blood splattered note within the folds of Gorion's cloak, while choking back the revulsion she felt to touch the corpse of a man she had looked up to and loved. She'd slid it into the backpack, hoping that Lilliana would read it later without noticing where it had come from. Imoen didn't want to tell her that she had gone through Gorion's pockets.

Sunlight had broken over the Lion's Way road and as they neared the sea side they could see the spires of Candlekeep. Not once had they looked down at what they were transporting. Both of them knew that if they did they wouldn't be able to make it back without mentally falling apart.

Lilliana had made a quick jaunt down to the shoreline to wash some of the blood off her body, not wanting to frighten the watchers at Candlekeep with her appearance. Imoen was left to guard Gorion's body and had the time to think about how unreal all of it seemed. When Lilliana was done they had continued the small ways left to what had been their home only the day before.

The gate warden was out early as he always was and squinted at the odd sight before him. "Lady Avalon? Mistress Voltaire? Ulraunt said that you two left with Sir Avalon last night and wouldn't return. What has . . . Gods!" The man spotted the cloak wrapped body. 'Is that . . ." He wasn't able to continue until the girls reached the gate. "Is that _Sir Avalon_? By Oghma what happened?!"

"We were accosted in the night and my father . . . he . . . " The half high-elf's throat began to tighten and she knew she couldn't explain further. "Please . . . We are so tired. Could you help us get him inside?" Lilliana's query came from chapped lips and her face was ragged with toil and sorrow.

The gate warden nodded but his eyes were downcast and the two girls waited for what he was going to say next. "We will take good care of him but I'm afraid Ulraunt's commands are very strict. I cannot let you two back inside unless you are carrying a tome of great value for donation."

Imoen responded immediately while Lilliana only looked at the ground as watchers came out to take her father's body into the keep. "WHAT?! But we _live_ here, we only left last night! You can't be serious. Sir Avalon just _died_! How can you tell us we can't come in?!"

Though he seemed to understand, the warden shook his head solemnly.

"I know that it's not fair, but it comes from Ulraunt himself and he was very specific. I _am_ sorry."

Imoen was at a loss but Lilliana finally looked up. She remembered her father's words. _'We must leave not only for your safety but that of those that reside here as well. They have no place in this struggle.' _Perhaps she disrupted their safety already by bringing her father back here, but she would have it no other way. Gorion would have wanted to be laid to rest at the one place both he and his daughter had found a temporary serenity. The cleric knew that she could not, however, put those that resided inside Candlekeep's walls in any more jeopardy.

Lilliana's voice wavered only a moment and then continued on calmly. "We understand. Ulraunt never wanted us there anyway. My father was the only person that made it possible for us to be there all these years. Perhaps it is for the best that we find our own road. It's not your fault. Could we ask perhaps for some supplies so we can get to the nearest inn at least?"

The gate warden nodded, sympathy written on his rugged features. "Of course."

Lilliana looked over at Imoen as the gate warden shouted to someone within the keep. "Did you get to say goodbye to Master Voltaire?"

Imoen looked away from the gate at Lilliana's query. "Well . . . I wrote him a letter. I don't wanna say goodbye to his face. . .Cause if I do then I might not be able to leave and I _do_ wanna leave with you Lil. Ya need me."

Lilliana went to protest that but Imoen grasped her arm in her seriousness. "No. You need me Lil and I'm sticking by you until you say otherwise and I might still stick by ya just to be annoying. Besides it seems stuffy Ulraunt doesn't want either of us there roilin' up the atmosphere."

She grinned and Lilliana tried to smile back, appreciating her dear sister more than she could vocally express.


	3. Chapter Two: The Friendly Arm

**Disclaimer:**

_"Forgotten Realms: Baldur's Gate" belongs to Bioware, TSR, and Black Isle Studios. Lilliana is mine and situations that you don't recognize from the game are mine, all other material and inspiration for my material is under copyright by the above named. Additional Forgotten Realms material included in this story but not in the game belongs to Wizards of the Coast._

_**Words from the Author: **_

_I promised two married harpers, a knight AND an elf in this chapter, but Lilliana decided she wanted to help some woman find her stupid ring. So the elf will have to wait for chapter three. I didn't have a beta reader available for this chapter so I had to rely on my own editing. I'm sure there will be a typo or twenty that I missed so don't be afraid to help me out with those, though with Tymora's blessing I captured most of them. I also touched on the issue of Sarevok's arrogance for leaving Lilliana still alive so let me know how that works for you. This chapter has some pretty heavy angst but also some cute, sweet and light moments, so it's pretty well rounded in my humble opinion. I've used the actual in game dialogue sparringly, so it will differ from the gameplay quite a bit I imagine. _

* * *

_**Chapter Two:**_

_**The Friendly Arm**_

* * *

_This is what I brought you. __This you can keep._

_I promised you a heart. __You promised to bleed._

_Kiss my eyes and lay me to sleep. _

_AFI _

* * *

**I**n the morning sunlight the road didn't look that much more inviting than it would have at night but enough to keep depression from sinking it's claws into Lilliana's heart. Looking up at the cloud filled sky in all its sun soaked blue glory she could imagine that last night was just a bad dream; that she hadn't woken up until after Imoen and she had left Candlekeep's gates with fresh supplies. Though her footfalls were made with the steady mind of one who has accepted reality inwardly she clung to that small illusion that her situation was indeed a dream. She could imagine that Gorion was back at Candlekeep waiting for the girls to get back from collecting sea shells. It made things easier.

The massive Coast Way road marker rose from the cobbled Lion's Way like a hideous ankheg breaking through the surface. Lilliana had never noticed how ugly it looked those many years ago when she had last seen it. If she turned left she would be headed to the Friendly Arm Inn and if she turned right she would be headed to the town of Beregost. Her father had said that he had plans to take the both of them to the Friendly Arm and that there were two Harpers waiting there for him.

It seemed odd. Many times Gorion had spoken of the group and the deeds he had carried out while with them but something must have happened because Gorion had formed the opinion that they cared _only_ for balance and had no cares for right or wrong. He never spoke of what had happened to make him feel that way but it would seem not quite right that he would trust anyone from their group now. Perhaps the two he was to meet were different or maybe the sage had felt that no one but the Harpers could help his daughter and himself and they were his last hope. Nonetheless, her father had wanted to go the Friendly Arm Inn and it was there that she would go.

Lilliana also knew that she looked horrible and was dirtied with blood encrusted clothing. She had washed off briefly at the shoreline earlier that morning but it hadn't tidied her up much. It was a wonder that the gate warden of Candlekeep hadn't said anything about how she looked. She also smelled pretty ripe and a bath was much needed before she went anywhere too public.

Throughout her time spent at Candlekeep she had not traveled. Gorion seemed extremely untrusting of the world outside the library's walls. If the few tales that managed to leak in to the Candlekeep Inn from visitors were any indication than he had a right to be wary. That wariness however had caused him to cloister not only himself but Lilliana as well at their home. She'd been to Beregost once, the day before she arrived at Candlekeep but beyond that she didn't know of anything in the area near her home. During her childhood having only book knowledge didn't bother her but now she was embarrassed.

Books that the half high-elf had read had maps in them and she'd studied them as hard as she studied anything she was given task to but it wasn't the same as being familiar with a place. A map didn't allow you to know the people that lived there nor did it show you all of an area's hidden secrets.

Now it was her and Imoen out there on the lonely road, utterly alone, and without much knowledge of what they could get into. Imoen at least had spent more time in the city than Lilliana and that would help, but they needed to find others to travel with (not to mention a destination to travel _to_). It also wouldn't be a bad idea to try and practice some other skills while on the road. Gorion had always said _'A little bit of everything makes a better soup.'_

"We need to head north. Papa said that there were two people waiting at the Friendly Arm. They should help us even without my father's presence. At least I hope so." Lilliana pursed her lips as both her and Imoen continued northwards on the road.

Imoen felt like a sitting duck on the open road but she didn't know the terrain outside Candlekeep much better than Lilliana. At present it seemed that the road was far safer than wandering off onto some deer path in the woods . . . Or maybe not. She tapped Lilliana's shoulder when she heard a noise up ahead. "Two people I think, male . . . Talking." She whispered closely. Learning the less savory art of thievery at such a young age had also taught Imoen to attune her ears to listen for sounds that wouldn't normally be very audible.

"Dangerous?" The cleric asked, her eyes darting about her as if an unseen assailant could come bounding out at them at any moment. Imoen wrinkled her nose at the silly question.

"Now how would I know _that_? We should be careful though Lil, ya know. . . just in case." Lilliana nodded her head.

"Right, sorry. Look if they are still talking they probably haven't heard us so . . . I say we go into the woods just enough so we are concealed. Then we can continue to the follow the road by sight. When we get close enough to whomever they are then we can better identify them _and_ their possible motives without them seeing us . . . Does that sound okay?" Lilliana whispered to Imoen conspiratorially. The half high-elf knew she probably sounded like an idiot. She was a librarian not a tactician but beggars couldn't be choosers.

Imoen nodded. "Sounds okay to me. We should walk slow though, if they hear us cracking branches and they _aren't_ nice people then we'll be dead sure 'nuf."

Moving away from the road and into the thin woods that ran along both sides of the road they managed to find a route that wove through the trees and bushes yet still allowed them to see the road. Lilliana spotted a spider on a low hanging branch and motioned for Imoen to stop until it had moved far enough away so that there was no risk of the half elf touching it. Imoen just rolled her eyes.

"I done told ye before ya blasted idgit! We can't be havin those bandits, whoe'er they be led by, tossin about the Zhentarim name. They be traveling all up and down this bleedin' road and if we aren't makin better time we ain't going to be finding _anyone_." The angry voice was coming from a bearded halfing. Lilliana was surprised at the violent tone he had. From her readings most halfings were possessed of a gentle nature.

"Sttoopp it Montaron! You are so . . . What would mother say? Tis disturbing to my demeanor!" A high pitched male human retorted. His green mage robe was flamboyantly bright and in the morning sun it hurt to look at him.

Imoen made a sour face and tapped Lilliana's shoulder to get her attention. When the half-elf turned to look the human girl made a circular motion against her temple with her fore finger indicating that she thought the mage was crazy. Lilliana nodded her agreement and if she had to keep listening to that high pitched whine of his she would probably be crazy too.

The two girls didn't think they had made any noise but without warning the halfing and mage both turned and looked at the tree line. The robed human spoke out almost giddily. "We are being hunted by mutant zombie bunnies! Aren't they cute?"

The halfing hit the mage in the leg with the hilt of his short sword. "Shut yer yap buffoon." The one named Montaron scanned the trees as the mage rubbed his now sore leg.

Imoen and Lilliana stayed silent, afraid the loud drum of their heart beats would give them away. After a few moments the halfing turned away and Lilliana was still too cautious to even breathe a sigh of relief.

"Bah! Probably was some blasted squirrel! Let's get movin Xzar, it still be a ways yet afore we reach Nashkel." When they moved down the road a fair distance the two girls allowed themselves to breathe deeply.

"That was a close one huh? Boy I'm sure glad we didn't stop to ask _them_ for help!" Imoen whispered and Lilliana nodded.

"Yes. That mage seemed as if he fell off into the deep end and drowned." Imoen laughed at her friend's description.

"Yeah and that halfing sounded like a mean lil cuss to boot." She added. Their movements through the woods as it followed the road were not as quick as they might have actually been on the road itself, but after seeing the two travelers earlier they felt much safer on _their_ route. Deer path or not.

* * *

The sun was starting to dip low in the sky when they reached the massive Friendly Arm Inn. It was indeed as big as Lilliana had heard it was, the tall stone walls that enclosed it going higher than the upper boughs of the trees in the thick woods that surrounded the inn.

The road split into a fork here, one way headed further north past the inn and the other leading to a draw bridge that lead across a moat and into the inn's grounds. Two guards watched this entrance, banners of maroon that displayed the Friendly Arm's name flapping beside them from their attachments on the left and right of the arched entry. Lilliana and Imoen moved until they were out of sight of the guards before exiting the woods and stepping onto the road. The half high-elf thought that the guards might be suspicious if the two girls just popped out of the woods.

"Greetings sirs. We have traveled long and wish to enter your fine inn." The cleric stated, hoping that the fading light of sundown wasn't too revealing considering how she looked. One guard yawned and the other nodded.

"We don't need no fancy speeches. Just get yourself in, suns getting ready to fade and we're just about to raise the bridge for the night." His yawning friend had more to say.

"Mind you the rules of the Friendly Arm. If'n you cause trouble, you'll be leaving with those troubles. Stealing, vandalizing and violence all be handled here swiftly, if you catch my meanin'."

Lilliana and Imoen nodded and walked in. Truly the cleric was glad to have made it _this_ far without much fuss. The sun had been out in full force today and she was sure that Lathander had a watchful eye on their trip here. Now that nightfall had come she was glad to be behind the walls of the Friendly Arm.

A large temple with the markings of Garl Glittergold and the title of "Temple of Wisdom" engraved above the doors sat beside the towering shape of the inn proper. The half high-elf made a note to stop by there in the morning and see how much they charged for healing potions. She was a practiced cleric of Lathander but she knew she wasn't powerful enough to heal injuries _all_ the time and some potions would be a wise purchase.

As the two girls made their way up the stairs to the inn Imoen finally asked her sister if she even knew what the two Harpers Gorion was going to meet looked like. Lilliana did not and it felt silly to go around asking everyone at the inn if they were there to meet Gorion Avalon, not to mention foolish. Before she could speak further the doors of the inn came open with a bang and a yelling man was thrown out them. Lilliana and Imoen hurriedly pressed themselves against the wall as his body rolled down the stairs. Two guards came out of the inn and chased him.

Lilliana's mouth was agape at how rough the guards were handling the inebriated man. From what she could gleam from the shouting that went back and forth between the guards and the drunkard he had tried to get too friendly with one of the tavern maids and when she had rebuffed him he'd hit her. The half high-elf girl had no experience with this kind of behavior. A man hitting a woman was un-thought of at Candlekeep, but even if he did he wouldn't have been thrown down a flight of stairs. The drunk was lucky his neck hadn't broken. _It utterly lacked of manners and it was wrong!_

"Hey!" She called out as Imoen watched.

_Uh oh!_ The red head thought as the guards turned to look at her sister when she yelled a second time.

"You should not be so mean! He may have hit a lady, to which you sir should be most ashamed. . " She pointed at the drunken man who looked up at her appraisingly, though she was too mad to notice. "But he shouldn't have been thrown down the stairs! You could have killed him!" With her righteous tone and the stern look on her face Lilliana was every bit the picture of Gorion. Imoen smiled at the similarity.

"Well well well, look what we have here. A defender of the people!" One guard snickered to the other. "This man has breeched the laws that keep the Friendly Arm safe for children like you but if you really want to try my patience you can leave with him and then we'll see how righteous you feel when he tries propositioning _you_ little girl!" The angry guard yelled before he and his comrade dragged the man off to the gate.

Lilliana stood there speechless. She looked over at Imoen finally, who just shrugged.

"Some people are just bullies Lil." The human girl explained but Lilliana was flabbergasted.

"How can anyone be that rude and mean?! Papa would have never let this matter stand . . . but we really need to find his contacts. Still, I plan on talking to that guard's superior tomorrow!" Lilliana huffed as the two girls went inside the inn.

* * *

Khalid Kostas was stroking his wife's hair as she fretted. Jaheira was a tough woman but worry was painted plainly on her face. Her elbows were resting on her knees and her hands were at her temples.

"They are late . . . Too late. What if something happened? Perhaps we should go out and. . . . Oh blast it! I don't know!" Her Tethyrian accent grew heavier than normal when she was upset. The pair of married half-elves were sitting on a small tattered sofa that had been placed in the corner of the Friendly Arm and from this spot they could easily see the door. Khalid looked over at it briefly before he turned back to his wife. Her violet eyes were shining brightly as he studied her face with eyes of the same color.

She may have been a druid but even _she_ was capable of breaking down, and Khalid knew this all to well. Raised in the city of Calimport by his gold elf mother he was all too accustomed to how an elfess concealed her feelings behind a shield of strength and Jaheira was no different.

"N-now d-darling . . . We must r-remain here j-just awhile longer. I'm sure that t-they will arrive s-soon." The stutter of his gentle voice was a childhood malady and it was only made worse when he got excited. Jaheira had seen past this and the rest of his faults and loved him as he was, just as he loved her.

He remembered the day he had met her. Khalid had been one hundred and thirty four years old and Jaheira was one hundred fifty and had just joined the Harpers. Khalid had been there ten years and was studying swordsmanship in the courtyard of the Athkatla headquarters under Varith Mercer, an aging human, when Jaheira had walked past him. They had caught one another's eye and when the day was done he had knocked on her door, nervous and stuttering all over himself. She had smiled and told him she knew a remedy for his vocal affliction. When he'd asked what it was she kissed him. She was so beautiful, no matter her mood, and every time she gazed at him he was once again momentarily struck silent by her beauty and poise.

She turned and smiled at him. "You are right my dear. This whole thing . . . It just makes me anxious. I think I could use a round." The half wood-elf druid went to get up but her warrior husband held her back.

"P-perhaps we should s-stay away from the s-spirits." Jaheira laughed and earned a quizzical look.

"You misunderstand me. I'm going to get a round of chamomile tea." She leaned down and kissed his brow.

The sofa was horribly bumpy and Khalid fidgeted in it. He'd already gotten up several times during the day and walked around to stretch his legs but the mood of the other patrons made him prefer the uncomfortable sofa. Half-elves were tolerated in the north lands better than the nations farther south but the customers in the common room still had the habit of shooting him dark looks which sent him back to his seat. He had a feeling he knew why.

The region of Tethyr was close to Amn and with all the talk being bandied about the bar there was rumor of a war brewing between the cities of Athkatla, the Council Seat of Amn, and Baldur's Gate, the Dukes Chair of the Sword Coast. His wife's lineage was marked by her violet half-elf eyes but her accent was also noticeably Tethyrian. The Friendly Arm's customers likely didn't trust southerners. The sooner they got out of here the better he'd feel.

Most of the inn's guests were human males, either traveling merchants or nearby farmers. There were only two nobles that Khalid had seen, so when two young girls entered without an escort it caught his attention. He leaned over and accidentally knocked a cup off the table that sat before the sofa. An ill mannered word would have escaped his lips as the water that had been inside spilled all over the floor, but his wife chose that moment to touch his shoulder.

"Did you see the two girls that just came in? The elf . . . Does she not look a little like Lilliana? I thought she would look more like a half-elf by now. It has been a while since we saw her. . .Still. . ." A mug of tea was in her hand as Jaheira was now watching the two with hawk eyes as they made their way to the bar. Khalid was looking with her, the spilled cup momentarily forgotten.

"Y-yes, quite. A little y-younger looking than I imagined a-and a fair bit d-dirty . . . B-but I didn't see Gorion . . . did y-you?"

Jaheira's eyes narrowed, a feeling of deep worry building in her. "No. I didn't. He also said nothing of another girl traveling with him." The elf's appearance was not one of comfort. Even from across the room the druid could clearly see signs of battle on her thin chain mail. If this was Gorion's child than it didn't appear that the trip from Candlekeep had been without trouble.

Khalid got up and dusted himself off though he wasn't very dirty. "W-well. No time like t-the present. We should g-go over and see i-if they did c-come here with G-Gorion." He bent to pick up the cup and set it down on the table along with his wife's tea, which he took from her. Her expression was frozen with apprehension as the two approached the girls, who had taken an uneasy seat at the bar.

She was sure the brunette was Lilliana and the absence of Gorion troubled her terribly. Sir Gorion Avalon had been a friend to them during his time with the Harpers, and even after he left he held no ill will against Jaheira or her husband. Though it had taken some time before he had written them back. Jaheira's hand had ached from all the letters she had to write. Jaheira remembered from one of Gorion's letters that Lilliana had taken it upon herself to 'adopt' a human girl as her sister. Though the druid couldn't recall the name, the strawberry blonde that had come here with the elfess must be her.

* * *

Imoen was talking to the gnome that owned the Friendly Arm as he polished the long mirror behind the bar while Lilliana looked around the room. Bentley Mirrorshade not only owned the Friendly Arm (which he proudly stated was the former home of a Bhaal worshipper until Bentley and his friends liberated it) but he also ran the small store they had and tended bar. His wife Gellana ran the Temple of Wisdom that was held on the Friendly Arm's inner grounds.

"We're just wonderin if maybe, well, have a couple Harpers come in here? Like uh, well in the past couple days?" Imoen asked, not sure exactly how to word it. The gnome gave her a quizzical look.

"Harpers? I'm not knowin' about any Harpers _here_ miss."

The red head sighed and sat down on the stool. "Thanks anyway Mister Mirrorshade. " She turned to her sister. "Well the innkeeper doesn't know anything. I know ya don't wanna go around askin, but maybe that's all we _can _do."

Lilliana was too busy scanning the crowd to take much note of Imoen's words. _What did a Harper look like anyway?_ The cleric sighed and wiped a hand across her warm face. It was far too crowded in here, she felt hot and tired and wanted nothing more than to get a nice bath.

A half-elf man and woman were walking towards her hand in hand. Lilliana straightened her back and studied them. The woman was tall and dressed in a simple light green tunic, her golden brown hair in a ponytail that hung over one shoulder. The man was a little shorter than the woman, his short copper hair matching the color of the few freckles that dotted his face. Both of them had the bright violet eyes of half elves. _Eyes that I should have had if I had been born normal!_ Lilliana thought with a note of bitterness, that she immediately felt ashamed of. Her father had always told her that one must never feel sorry for themselves for it was then that they forgot the sorrows of those around them.

Thinking of her father hurt like a blade had sunk into _her _chest instead. Lilliana bit her lip as if it would keep the sorrow out as the man spoke first and his kindly stuttering voice created a feeling of comfort that Lilliana had rarely gotten from a stranger. "E-Excuse me. I am Khalid Kostas and t-this is Jaheira Kostas, my wife. We were w-wondering, are you perhaps the d-daughter of G-Gorion Avalon?" The woman held an impassive façade but the man had a gentler look and Lilliana answered him.

"I am. Yes. This is my sister Imoen. My father is not here. .he . . . he . ." She tried, but the words wouldn't come. She fought back tears but she could feel them beginning to sting in the corners of her eyes. "He . . ."

Imoen put a hand on her sister's shoulder and answered for her. "Sir Avalon didn't survive the trip here. Lil barely made it herself. We took him back to Candlekeep for well . . . ya know." Her own eyes were misty and she squeezed Lilliana's shoulder as the elfess turned away, unable to look at her father's friends.

"My g-gods!" Khalid's face went pale and Jaheira's mouth was agape, her first words to the girls were ones of shocked disbelief

"He . . . What?! Great Silvanus!" The red headed half gold-elf gripped his wife's shoulder in much the same way as Imoen had Lilliana's.

"C-calm yourself my d-dear. We are so s-sorry for your l-loss. If t-there is anything w-we can do for you . . . " He left the rest unsaid as Lilliana finally raised her head once more to look at them both.

"Thank you. I know you have probably been here awhile, but . . . I can't do this right now. If . . . If perhaps this could wait until the morning? We are so very weary." Her eyes may have been looking at them, but it was as if she didn't see Khalid and Jaheira at all. Khalid noticed this and gave her a sad smile before his wife could object.

"O-Of course. We w-will secure you and y-your sister a room. It's the l-least we c-can do . . . C-considering."

Lilliana rose and bowed to them. "Thank you."

Jaheira had many questions but perhaps her husband was right. The least they could was give the girls some rest. It had barely fazed Jaheira what had happened and she worried how hard the loss would hit both her and Khalid when morning came. The half-elf Calmishite smiled at her as he bartered with Bentley Mirrorshade for the price of two rooms that night.

* * *

The quarters at the Friendly Arm were small but cozy. Even so, Jaheira still preferred the clean night air to a stuffy inn room but it was still nice to have some silence for awhile. Khalid was checking their gear. He had a habit of doing that a lot before he went to bed. Some people fluffed their pillows before they retired for the night, her husband sorted supplies.

"Khalid my dear, I'm sure it's all there and we can go through it in the morning. You've already checked it twice, now come to bed." She called for him, patting the empty space beside her invitingly.

"A-Alright darling." He smiled as he put their traveling sacks back in the closet. The bed squeaked slightly when he sat on it and Jaheira winced at the noise. Yes, she _much_ preferred wide open spaces.

She helped him as he got undressed for bed. "I would've liked to find out exactly what happened to Gorion. I just don't know. Without him it is going to be hard for us to take care of the girl, and now with her sister as well! She may not even want our guardianship you know." The druid remarked as Khalid settled down under the sheets.

"Y-yes. I've thought of t-that too but G-Gorion told us that s-should anything happen to him t-that he wished us to t-take care of the girl. I k-know that it was s-some time ago, b-but I doubt his intentions w-would have c-changed." He leaned over on one side to kiss his wife's face. "Besides darling, I-I'm sure a good nights r-rest will leave her m-more open to our c-companionship in the m-morning."

Jaheira was still uneasy. "I don't know, I mean did you really _see_ them Khalid? A couple of dolls on a little girl's dresser! Neither of them looks as if they could even defend themselves. They are too young and inexperienced to accompany us to Nashkel. Gorion's original plan to take her to Waterdeep was perhaps a good idea."

Khalid sighed. "No, I d-don't think so. The grief is s-still too new. Just g-give them a chance my d-dear. Gorion a-always said that strength c-came from the m-most surprising of p-places. Now that he is g-gone, she has no one. J-just her and her s-sister. I think she w-will need us. H-Helping others c-could also be q-quite good for them."

The druid smiled at her wonderful warrior husband. How she loved him. He had a way of putting things into perspective so they seemed far more simple than they were and so much more pleasant. "Yes, you are right, Khalid of my heart." A look of sadness came across her face. "I can't believe he's gone." A lone tear traveled down her cheek and Khalid wiped it away, kissing the trail it had made.

"N-neither can I. He will b-be truly missed."

* * *

The hot water that the maid had brought in was comforting but it wasn't enough to remove the chill from Lilliana's heart. Khalid and Jaheira seemed a good enough people, but aside from Imoen the half high-elf found it hard to even _think_ about keeping company with _anyone_ now that her father was gone. She brought a sponge heavy with water and scented with some sort of petal essence to her dirtied skin and began to wash.

A soft voice came from the doorway. "Lil? I thought I'd help ya with your hair. I know ya hate how it gets all tangled in your fingers 'n' stuff." Imoen had dressed in a night shift. She must have been planning to go with Gorion and Lilliana all along if she packed that much.

Somehow that thought made Lilliana smile. "That would be nice."

Gentle fingers began to work the water and soap through Lilliana's long black tresses. Soaked with water they looked like streaks of ink across Imoen's palms. "It'll be okay ya know? It'll take a long time . . . but you _will_ be okay. There is gonna be a morning when you wake up and it doesn't hurt so badly."

Lilliana sniffed as her sister washed her hair. "Really? Because I have to be honest with you. Right now I do not think I can hold on. It is going to take everything I have just to go downstairs in the morning and talk to those people. I . . . I just keep seeing him over and over Imoen. He told me to run and I wouldn't do it. I just could not leave him there. If I had he wouldn't have been distracted trying to keep me safe, he wouldn't have put me in that sanctuary of his and he wouldn't have lain there dying while I was inside it!"

Imoen stopped her movements and listened to her sister. The words she had been holding in were flowing as freely as the twin rivers of tears that ran down her face. "That's not the worst of it though! Oh not by a long shot! This. . this ghoul came out after it was all over and I don't even know how I did it but I ripped it apart. I butchered that thing and all the while it just made me feel better. It took the pain away but I think it just might have lost my mind! If that is what it takes to be strong than I want no part of it! I'd rather be weak and be struck down, because I find myself sickened by my own actions!"

The human girl listened to her sister, holding back a reply. _So that was what the mass of flesh had been! Lilliana did. .that?!_

"Why didn't I just let that ghoul kill me? I should've died! I should've died in my father's place! What good am I without him? I'm nothing Imoen! He's always been there for me and now . . . now he's gone! What am I supposed to DO?!" She was screaming now and crying hysterically. "Oh gods I can't do this! I can't! It hurts to think, it hurts to breathe. Nothing makes sense anymore . . . I just want to go home. I want my father back and I want to go home . . ._ please come back Papa!_ Oh gods!!! Please come back, I need you!!!" She wailed heavily and dropped her face down into her hands, her shoulders shaking uncontrollably as she wept. "Why didn't I die with him? I just want to die. . . I can't do this!"

Imoen was crying now as well as she leaned forward and embraced her sister tightly, her cheek pressed against her bare back, holding her as her body shook with her grief. She didn't care at all if she got wet. "Don't you say that! I don't _ever_ wanna hear you say anything like that _again_ Lil! I don't know why any of this happened but _I_ need you now. You wouldn't want to leave me here alone would you? Huh?" It was a long time before Lilliana responded, but she finally did.

"No . . . no I wouldn't." Imoen managed a smile and Lilliana felt the movement of the girl's face against her bare back.

"Good. Because I'm still here with you and I'm not going anywhere. I'm _never_ gonna leave you . . . Never ever ever!"

The elfess almost sounded like she had stopped crying and she turned in the tub so she could see her sister. Her cheeks were red and her eyes were so puffy that Imoen could barely see them but she was smiling and that was something. "I love you Imoen." The red head gave a smile of her own and kissed her sister's forehead.

"I love you too silly. Now turn around so I can finish washing your hair. If ya finish your bath quick enough I'll have time to take one myself and I'm needin one somethin fierce. My armpits smell like an ogre's breath!"

Lilliana laughed at that. "That sounds pretty bad . . . So I guess an ogre's breath must smell like onions then."

* * *

A room lined with skulls ran the length of the west wall and in it Sarevok stood, looking at his trophies. He had begun to rethink the situation outside Candlekeep. True, he may have gone there to only meet with Nimbul (since his meeting with Tazok had put him conveniently close to Nimbul's location at the moment) but the fact that Lilliana Avalon had been almost dropped into his palms that same night seemed a gift of Tymora, the goddess of luck. Sarevok himself didn't believe in Tymora's blessing or that of any of the other gods of the Pantheon.

Where had any of them been when he was half starving to death and wandering the streets, stealing just so he could stay alive? Where had they been when sweaty merchants had reached for him with pudgy fingers to tell him that he was a pretty boy and if he let them have some fun he could get a treat? Where had they been when Rieltar whipped him bloody? No, the only thing Sarevok believed in was himself.

Yet if Tymora had for some unforeseen reason gave him some luck that night than it also seemed that she had just as quickly decided to revoke it. Sarevok had dealt a fatal blow to the little whelp's father but she had been placed in that damn sanctuary before he could end_ her _life as well. Despite Rieltar's jibes that his foster son didn't have patience, he very much did, but not enough to waste his time on some worthless librarian.

He was Lord Sarevok Anchev, heir to a legacy of blood, he was far too great to spend his time waiting around for one little half-elf. Besides he had Tamoko to attend to and he remembered her normally calm façade melting away as she cried out in pain when the acid of Gorion's magical attack on the assassin had been drawn out of her body.

So he had left Lilliana, where she would eventually get out of the sanctuary, where she could watch her precious Gorion die, if he hadn't already been dead when the spell reached it's end. Sarevok smiled. _Yes, let her feel that pain_. The large human wondered briefly what it would be like to feel such sorrow for the loss of another . . . He had never known such an emotion. The thought was fleeting and just as soon forgotten.

Any assassin would do and he doubted very much that the pathetic half-elf would even put up much of a fight. If not for the wood elf that had killed Shank than the girl would be dead already. That in itself suggested that on her own she was probably gone by now . . . But Sarevok had not felt her passing. Every one of these _special assignments _of his had a connection to the golden eyed warlord, one that they were probably unaware of but it was there nonetheless. It was this connection that demanded they be killed. When they died he could feel their energy waning and Lilliana's death hadn't come to him at all.

This was worrying him and he had begun to question his arrogance at leaving her there. Perhaps he _should _have waited, just to be sure. That wasn't all that was gnawing on his conscious though. Last night he had a nightmare. They weren't uncommon and were usually of his childhood but this one was very different. In it Sarevok was the same as he was now, dressed in his black armor. He was in the underground temple that his servants had discovered two months prior, hidden deep under the streets of Baldur's Gate. There it was that Lilliana appeared, but far different than he had left her. She was dressed in bright armor, glowing with some kind of holy light. The half elf smiled at him and told him she was sorry. Without warning one of the two war hammers she had been holding swung in an arc and tore his head from his shoulders.

He'd awoken in a pool of sweat, nearly crazed to find a body lying beside him until he realized it was Tamoko. Even if it was a dream he didn't like the image of it at all. He'd have to start putting out more bounties until he was sure that Lilliana Avalon was long dead. No matter how long it took he would make sure that she never plagued his dreams again.

* * *

"Blessed light of the Morning Lord. Touch upon my soul and grace me with your generosity. I am the servant of light. I am the servant of life. I am the servant of renewal. On this morning I promise my heart to you. From darkness I will bring the illumination of your power. I shall raise my arms to the sun and I will touch the face of all that is good and just. The stench of evil shall be cleansed by the glory of your righteous light. So sayeth I, Lilliana Avalon, humble awakened of My Lord. Blessed is Lathander."

Whispered words of love and devotion roused Imoen from her sleep. She looked at her sister with tired eyes. Lilliana must have risen early for all her clothes and the chain mail she had worn had been cleaned and now lay neatly across her bed. Even the silver war hammer the cleric had been carrying glimmered in the morning sunlight that filtered from the open window. It was before this window that Lilliana was kneeling. She had placed two white candles on the window ledge and was now blowing their flames out. Imoen recognized the words as the Morning Ritual of Lathander, though it wasn't often that she been with her sister when she spoke her sacred words.

The half high-elf got up and for a moment the sunlight created the illusion of an angel around her rail thin form. Her long black hair hung down in a braid that fell over one shoulder and her skin was glowing ivory as the rays of sun shone around her, making the simple white of the shift she wore look like the aura of a deva. "I hope I didn't wake you. I was trying to be quiet." She moved away from the window and the illusion ended.

Morning had brought back the old Lilliana, even her voice had gotten back it's normal mousy gentle tone. Imoen much preferred this Lilliana to the bloodied, dirtied and broken Lilliana of yesterday.

"Nah, it was actually kinda nice. I don't get ta hear that a lot, ya know?" The human stretched as she begrudgingly slid herself out from the under her cozy blankets. She yawned loudly as she stepped onto the wooden floor. The sun had warmed it and it felt nice against her bare feet.

"You seem like ya feel a little better. Did ya sleep alright?" The girl asked her dark haired sister. She almost felt guilty at having slept as soundly as she did but the bed had felt so good after such a long day walking through the woods. The thought of that long walk had Imoen itching at a bug bite that she must have gotten yesterday as she went to rummage through her clothes.

"I suppose that I slept alright. It's probably going to be a long time before I sleep soundly." Her voice still had that sad note, one that Lilliana might likely carry for years, but it was still far removed from her hysterics of last night. Imoen almost expected her to cry again but instead she drew closer to her sister with a bright smile, her eyes reflecting nothing short of tranquility.

"Speaking with My Lord always makes me feel better. Even if he doesn't answer, I can just feel his presence." She was speaking of Lathander of course. Imoen had heard her call the god 'My Lord' many times.

"Does he ever answer ya back?" Her sister looked wistful as she answered.

"Sometimes he does, sometimes he does not. He is very busy you must realize. However I asked him for a sign, anything that would show me what I should do . . . And he gave me an answer."

"I asked him about Jaheira and Khalid and if they would help me find my path. A golden feathered hawk flew through the window and landed on the night stand within moments of that question. It was a wonder it didn't wake you up . . . Though with all that snoring . . . "Imoen made a face at her sister's comment and threw a pillow at her.

Lilliana laughed and ducked. "Hey! What? It's true. It would have been nice if you could have seen it though . . . It was so beautiful and it just looked at me with these bright eyes, filled with such intelligence and I just knew! I knew that he had given me my sign."

The way she talked about Lathander was filled with such wonder and admiration that sometimes Imoen couldn't help but get excited right along with her. The nineteen year old human didn't give lip service to any of the gods, but she supposed it was just because she hadn't found a deity who had a credo that matched her own. If there was ever a god of goodly cute thieves than he would most assuredly have Imoen as a servant.

"I think I am ready to listen to the Harpers now. I don't know what Papa's intentions were with them but I will hear them out."

Being raised as a lady Lilliana was not accustomed to wearing any kind of breeches but she didn't much like robes either. Though she had feeling that the days of her long gowns were gone. When she'd chosen her attire for the day she'd decided on a mix between the two. A pair of black leggings with an asymmetrical dark teal skirt over them and a matching corset. Underneath that she was putting on a slightly ruffled white muslin shirt. The chain mail should fit nicely over those items and the leather boots she'd purchased from Winthrop were good for tucking the leggings into. She hated the idea of wearing the chain mail all day, but it was folly to walk the roads without it. No matter what things were revealed in her discussion with the two half-elves downstairs she was fairly certain that neither she nor Imoen would be at the Friendly Arm too much longer.

Lilliana smiled as she watched her sister fight with the ties of her rose pink corset.

None of the things the girls had taken from her father had been gone through yet and the half high-elf wasn't relishing it but she supposed now was as good a time as any. Slowly she opened her father's sack. Her fingers settled on a roll of parchment and she pulled it out, her breath catching as she noticed splatters of dried blood on it. The string was already loose and Lilliana had no problem untying the scroll and reading it.

_**My Dear Friend Gorion,**_

_**Please forgive the abruptness with which I now write but time is short and there is much to be done. What we have long feared may now come to pass, though not in the manner foretold and certainly not in the proper time frame.**_

_**As we both know, forecasting these events has become increasingly difficult, leaving little option other than a leap of faith. You have done what you can for thy one in thou care, but the time nears when you must step back and let matters take what course they will. We have all been perhaps a touch too sheltering at this point.**_

_**Despite my desire to remain neutral in this matter I could not, in good conscience, let events proceed without some measure of warning. The other side will move VERY soon and I urge thee to leave Candlekeep as soon as you receive this letter. A fighting chance is all that can be asked for at this point.**_

_**Should anything go awry do not hesitate to take aid from travelers along the way. I do not need to remind thee that it is a dangerous land even without current concerns and a party of companions is stronger than a man and his daughter . . . In all respects. I have sent Jaheira and Khalid Kostas to meet you at the Friendly Arm Inn. They know little of what has passed and it wasn't my place to tell them, but they are ever thy friends and will no doubt help however they can.**_

_**Luck be with you my friend,**_

_**Signed, **_

_**E.**_

Lilliana looked up from the scroll with a thoughtful expression swimming in her green eyes. This letter had obviously put her father on edge enough to flee without much warning. It seemed that her father wasn't the only keeping secrets. The letter said that Khalid and Jaheira didn't know much but they surely had to know more than Lilliana, if this 'E' had sent them to the Friendly Arm to begin with.

Imoen glanced over from where she was perched to tie her black boots. She noticed that her sister was holding the note that she had taken from Gorion's cloak pocket. The human swallowed nervously. "Lil? Is everything okay?"

Lilliana tied the scroll back up but held it in her hand tightly. "Yes, if not a little more murky than before. I think I have some questions for Papa's associates."

* * *

Khalid and Jaheira both sat before plates of eggs and toast. The druid wondered exactly what kind of eggs they were but Khalid didn't seem to have that problem as he devoured his breakfast with gusto. He burped when he was done and apologized to his wife. She just shook her head and took a sip of the mint julep tea that she'd ordered.

The Friendly Arm's dining hall also served as its common room. Several simple round tables were clustered together in the center along with about four wooden chairs per table. Worn sofas and overstuffed chairs had been either tucked away in corners or pressed against the far walls. From their spot at a table near the bar, which also shared the main room, they could see the stair well that led to the second level, through the archway of the large kitchen and the double doors that led outside. The smell of baking meat pies was wafting out from the kitchen now and as untrusting as Jaheira was about the food served at an inn it made even _her_ stomach growl. She finally started in on her eggs and toast.

Besides them there was one nobleman, fretting over a stack of parchments that he had all over the table as he took small sips from a glass of red wine. _Starting a little early are we?_ She thought as she watched him place his chin in one pampered palm as his eyes scanned the writing in front of him. He was no doubt worrying over some business decision. How unimportant such matters seemed when placed in the grand scheme of things.

"Good mornin Mister and Missus Kostas!" A chipper voice called from the stairs and they both looked up to see Imoen jump from the fourth step and onto the floor. Behind her Lilliana descended a might slower, with delicate steps. One hand was on the railing as she walked down and the other hand was holding a scroll.

"Good morning yourself girls." The druid commented, noting that after a bath and a good nights rest they both looked much more put together, although the doll-like appearance she had noticed last night was more prevalent than ever.

"Y-Yes, g-good morning ladies." Khalid greeted them with an inviting smile. Imoen giggled and pointed at him.

"You have crumbs around your mouth!" His eyes were downcast as he looked at himself.

"I d-do? " He was laughing in embarrassment as he brushed the remnants of the toast from his face.

"It looks as if you have both gotten a fair nights sleep. I am glad for it. I'm sorry that I did not have the stamina to speak with you last evening and I thank you for your patience in the matter. This morning I have thought things through and consulted Lathander. I also came across this . . ." Lilliana raised the scroll briefly, ". . . and I would say that we have quite a bit to discuss. In private if that is alright." The cleric nodded her head in the direction of the nobleman.

Jaheira stood up from her seat. "Yes, well my child, perhaps we can leave Khalid and Miss Imoen to get to know one another while we go back to your room and talk." Lilliana made sure Imoen was okay with that before she nodded. They both went up the stairs as Khalid asked Imoen how she liked her eggs.

The druid Harper took a deep breath as she readied herself for whatever Lilliana might say. As she closed the door to her room Jaheira noted how thin she was. Gorion had raised her to be a lady, not a warrior, and her form and demeanor were very much that of a courtier. No matter her husband's words last night she was still more than a little worried at how much little Lilliana could handle. She may be twenty years old but she was still very much a child, no matter how well spoken she was.

"Oh please Lady Kostas, have a seat." Her smile was a gentle one and in it the druid could see much of Gorion. "No I'm fine, but thank you child and its Jaheira, just Jaheira. I'm much too old for formalities."

With that statement Lilliana raised one black eyebrow. "Old? You certainly don't look it."

Jaheira was not surprised by that reaction. "I'm two hundred and twelve years old. You are half-elven yourself, so you must know that you will age in much the same fashion as I. When you are of elven blood, half or no it takes a lot longer for your form to show obvious signs of age. Sometimes we have to look a little deeper than the surface."

_Two hundred and twelve?! _Lilliana could scarcely believe it. She knew that half-elves held nearly the same 'growth rate' as their full blood cousins but still . . . To see someone that had been through that many years of life and looked barely over the hub of thirty was amazing. Someday that might be her, stating easily that she had seen over two centuries of life.

"Yes, well . . . I hate tense conversations. They are so hard to start and I just wind up feeling silly for being so worked up over them in the first place. However, I guess there is just no way to have a cordial conversation with the questions I have for you but I shall try my best, so I am just going to jump right in. . . . is that alright?"

Jaheira was trying not to laugh at that sight of the girl trying to be proper, mature, easy going, friendly and serious all at the same time. She may have looked like an elf but her demeanor was _all_ human. "Please do." She encouraged as Lilliana read her the scroll that she had been holding. When she was done she studied the druid's face for any kind of reaction but there wasn't any. She spoke when the half wood-elf did not.

"So it would seem that my father and I were in danger for a time before we left Candlekeep and this letter might have been the final straw that made him decide to leave. Then there is the whole thing about some issue being 'foretold'. Along with the mention of this person 'E' of whose identity I find myself drawing a blank. This same 'E' sent you here Lady Kos. . Jaheira, along with your husband and yet in the letter it says that you do not really know much about what is going but apparently enough to follow the instructions of 'E' and wait here for my father and I. Please, I just want to know what is going on. My father never told me why we needed to leave, not really, only that there was danger in staying. Even if you do not know everything you _must_ know a fair bit more than I do."

The druid maintained her stance and when she spoke her voice was serious but gentle. "This 'E' is Elminster. He has found himself working with the Harpers on more than a few occasions, and like your father he is a friend to both Khalid and myself. He knew far more of your situation than either of us however and I must confess that perhaps Gorion trusted him more than any of the other Harpers. Your father did come to trust us though and we have corresponded for the past ten years through letters. That was how Elminster contacted us as well and asked us to meet you and Gorion here. When we sent a notice to your father he responded and let us know that you would be arriving early yesterday morning.

As for something being 'foretold' of that I am unsure. It could be referring to almost any kind of prophecy. We Harpers know of many of them and perhaps Gorion and Elminster thought that one pertained to you. I wasn't informed of that and neither was Khalid. It shall have to be something you strive to discover for yourself child. There are always dangerous men and women out there and no matter their reason for coming after you it should be taken seriously and guarded against. In this we can help you."

Jaheira finished. She hated lying to the girl about exactly what prophecy it was that had given Elminster cause to be concerned, but Jaheira knew that if Gorion hadn't told her than it was not _her_ place or Khalid's to reveal such disturbing information. When Lilliana was ready to know then perhaps she would rethink the issue, but as it was now she was _not_ ready.

_Elminster? Thee Elminster was a friend of her father's?!_ Lilliana suppressed the urge to tell Jaheira that she must be wrong. If he was truly a friend then why had the elfess never seen him visiting Candlekeep? _No doubt secret meetings about that which was foretold._ She amended to herself. So it seemed that the Harpers really didn't know much more than she did after all, but at least it was something. Finally she found her voice.

"What do you mean? Did my father even say what he planned to do once we got here?" She asked, still quite confused.

"Well, no. He had said that he would tell us more once there was time." The druid answered and Lilliana remembered that it was about the same thing her father had told _her_ before they departed Candlekeep. Her attention was drawn back to the Harper when the half-elf druid began to speak again. "However, he did tell us some time ago that should anything happen to him that he wished Khalid and I to take over your guardianship. It is a wild land out there and no matter how capable you may be with the book knowledge you have I feel that you are unprepared for life on your own, but we are active Harpers and perhaps traveling with us would not be the best thing for you."

The young cleric raised an eyebrow. She wasn't sure if Jaheira meant to insult her or if it was simply her manner. It was much too early to tell. She had been friendly enough towards her husband but with Imoen and Lilliana there was a lack of emotion, good or bad. Though it sounded as if this woman wanted only what she thought was best and it _was_ true. Lilliana didn't have much experience with the lands outside Candlekeep. Even before she had gone there the whole of her life was spent in sheltered solitude with her father. She could admit that to herself but if she was not to go with the Harpers than what _was_ she to do? There was also Imoen to consider and she didn't like the idea of the two of them wandering the Sword Coast alone. "Well . . . What do you suggest then Jaheira?"

A contemplative look was her only answer for a long time before the half wood-elf responded. "I thought long about this last night and while I don't like it I think you should still travel with us. Gorion originally suggested that you be taken to Waterdeep where he still had family that he trusted but he decided against that and even if we were to take you there it would be a long and hazardous trip. Either way I see little choice, unless of course you'd rather stay at the Friendly Arm and try to get employment. Khalid and I could always check up on you and see how you and your sister are faring." She suggested but held a knowing look when Lilliana shook her head.

"No. I have seen enough of the Friendly Arm to know that a passing visit is more than enough . . . I cannot imagine Imoen and I _living_ here. I would bet my life that Imoen has no interest in staying here either. So _do _you intend to take us to Waterdeep? I did not really sound like you were." The half high-elf also didn't really want to be whisked away to some unknown city either but she waited for the druid's response.

"No matter how immature you may be you are still old enough to make your own decisions as to who you want to travel with. All I can do is advise you as best I can and with that in mind I should tell you that Khalid and I were already headed to the Sword Coast before Elminster contacted us. There is an issue of sabotage at the Nashkel iron mine and we have been called upon to investigate it. That has been put on hold for you but we still have a responsibility as those that harp to carry out our initial summons. If you want you could travel with us to Nashkel and then maybe we'll be able to better figure out your future, having had more time to think it over. Khalid was also right when he said helping those in need would be good for you." Again her words and manner were stoic and Lilliana wasn't sure how to take them, but her father had raised her better than to judge someone before you really knew them.

"It seems a well enough plan for now, but I cannot agree to it without my sister's consent. I have no right to make decisions for her. As I said before, I am certain she will not want to stay at the Friendly Arm, but I still have to ask. Perhaps we should return downstairs? Besides I am fairly hungry." Lilliana smiled at the druid who only nodded and moved towards the door. "And Jaheira?" She called out. "Thank you for being honest with me. I appreciate it, even if I still am more than a little frazzled by all this."

An almost guilty look flashed across the older half-elf's face but it faded before Lilliana had time to question it. "You are welcome child."

* * *

Breakfast was brief and Imoen was griping that she was still hungry so Lilliana bought her a few strips of dried beef to munch on after they left. Jaheira had gotten after the cleric for wasting the few coins she had on unnecessary things to which the girl had responded that she would try to be more careful with her money in the future. After a trip to the Temple of Wisdom she had even more conviction about watching her spending. The price of potions was quite high and Lilliana could only afford four and since she wanted to have _some_ money left over she had only purchased three.

After her purchases the awakened of Lathander had made good on her promise to find the captain of the guard and inform him that his men should have better manners and not be so rough with people. Lilliana had promptly been told to mind her own business and 'go back to mommy and daddy'. Her red face was caused by both embarrassment and anger and when she walked back to the inn to get the rest of her supplies Imoen told her she looked like a tomato.

"I cannot believe him! He did not even listen to me! Ugh! I just do not understand the guards here. They would deem to call this place the 'Friendly' Arm but from what I have seen it is anything but. If Candlekeep had been run like this the visitors would have blacklisted us for certain!"

Jaheira looked up from the supplies she was placing in her pack to eye the girl. "They are simply enforcing the law. The Friendly Arm is far different from Candlekeep. It serves all kinds, not just pure bred nobles and well behaved merchants. It can get pretty rowdy here and whether you agree with their principles or not it is such security that allows those with friendly intentions to be comfortable here. If the guards babied those that broke their laws then there would be no sense in having rules in the first place. Sometimes child it is necessary to get a little rough in order to maintain the peace."

Lilliana gave her a sour look. "But . . . but . . . Oh forget it." She finally gave up, not willing to dwell on the ruffling subject. She plopped down in a chair and opened her small pouch. "I got some potions . . . Only three though. Two will help heal small wounds and I also got a poison antidote. I told Mistress Gellana that the liquid looked a little suspect and she admitted that it was three months old so she only charged me half price . . . But half the cost was still thirty five gold pieces." She counted out the rest of her money. "That leaves us with . . . Ten, eleven, twelve . . . Twelve pieces. That's not a lot."

The druid shot her an '_I told you so_' look and Imoen guiltily chewed on the last piece of her jerky. Lilliana would have said something but she was interrupted when an older woman came bursting into the main room.

"Those damned knobgoblins stole me grand daddy's ring they did! Bentley you must be doin somethin about those things. They _infest_ the woods outside the Arm. 'Taint safe to leave the walls!"

Lilliana looked over at Imoen and silently mouthed '_knobgoblins_?' to which Imoen mouthed back '_hobgoblins_' and Lilliana mouthed '_oh_'.

Bentley Mirrorshade peered his bald head over the edge of the bar, his long beard twitching. "Then Miss Joia ya shouldn't be leavin the walls." The aging blonde woman scoffed.

"Blast ye gnome! I'm guessin I should consider myself lucky to be alive, cause ye sure would nay have done nothin to insure my safety! I should be havin a talk with the captain o' the guard methinks."

Bentley just nodded and went back to working. "Guess ya better get goin then." She let out a sigh of frustration and cursed Bentley again as she headed for the doors she had just come through.

Lilliana didn't think Joia would get any farther with the rude captain of the guard than she did and she stood up. "Wait! Lady Joia?" The woman turned, still fuming.

"Whadda _you_ want girly? Who are ye anyway?" The half high elf smiled and walked to the woman to shake her hand but Joia just looked at it.

"Uh, I'm Lady Lilliana Avalon and I would like to help you. My friends and I are departing to Nashkel today so I'm afraid I cannot do anything about maintaining the safety of the woods but I can get your ring back for you."

Jaheira, Khalid and Imoen all stood up from the table at the same time. The druid spoke first. "You _what_?!" Joia looked from the elfess to the three behind her and raised an eyebrow.

"I'm not so sure yur friends be wantin to help and I canna be payin ya. Ye may be a lady but I just be a simple farmer."

Lilliana maintained her smile and ignored the dagger eyes Jaheira was throwing her. "Of course they want to help and money is not a problem, we will assist you for free."

Joia looked wary. "Fer free ya say? If'n ye can get me ring back I'd be very grateful to ye. Tis a flame dance ring . . . Quite purty."

_She was going to let them help her! _Lilliana's emerald eyes lit up with excitement and she placed a hand out for the woman to shake. "On my honor as a cleric of the most glorious Lathander I promise to return your ring to you." Her grip was firm and Lilliana could clearly feel calluses on the palm that was in contrast to her own smooth hand. This woman was obviously one who worked hard to make a living and it was all the more reason to help her.

"I be thankin ye _and_ Lathander if ye get it from those ugly buggers. Kick em in the head a good one for me eh?" Joia left the inn looking far happier than she had when she arrived.

Lilliana was all smiles until she turned around and found three pairs of eyes on her. One pair of sprightly green ones looked worried and downcast, while the other two pairs of violet eyes were very angry. She frowned. "What? She needed our help. I know what that captain of the guard would have told her . . .aAnd did you see her face? She was happy that _someone_ was willing to assist her . . . Poor woman."

Imoen tried a smile but she still looked nervous. "Lil, I don't know . . . These are _real_ hobgoblins we're talkin about, not one of Phyldia's summoned creatures. If they stick us, it's gonna _really_ hurt." Lilliana nodded.

"I know that, but they are still just hobgoblins. I could knock them unconscious with a simple 'command' conjuration. I've read the monster's handbook on them. It said they were slow and dull of wit."

"Oh yes? Just a simple matter of knocking them out and then picking the pockets of every one of them to find this woman's ring, and then returning it to her with no promise of reward other than her thanks?! Then you volunteer all of us without asking when it was _you_ that were so adamant this morning about not deciding a thing until you'd spoken with your sister first!" Jaheira was beginning to yell and Khalid placed a hand on his wife's arm.

"N-now darling . . . She m-meant well." The druid was still fuming when Khalid spoke again this time to the cleric, his voice angry but more gentle than that of his wife. "L-Lilliana, it is n-nice that you w-want to help b-but you m-must realize that you c-can't just volunteer t-the group without a-asking us."

Lilliana bit her lip. "I'm sorry . . . I just thought . . . Well I assumed that you would want to help. You are right, I should have asked but you and Jaheira are Harpers, I mean, is that _not_ what you do? Assist those in need? Look, I know it's all about the great balance but does that balance not mean that you maintain a guard over evil so it does not overwhelm the decent innocent citizens of Abertoril?" The half high-elf placed a hand over her heart. "I am a servant of Lathander and it is my duty to protect those in need. I may not be some. . some great warrior but why can't I help this woman? No one else wanted to and . . . . and they are _just_ hobgoblins! If I am never allowed to test my skills as a cleric and learn how to use my war hammer properly I have no chance of survival at all. It has to start somewhere. Jaheira, you told me that you and Khalid thought that helping others would be good for Imoen and I."

Jaheira placed her forehead in her palm and shook her head with a groan. Imoen smiled with renewed vigor and went over to her sister's side and smiled at the two Harpers. Khalid was beginning to come around but Jaheira didn't look happy at all.

"I'm with ya Lil! You are right, we may be young but we have spirit and I've seen your conjurations. Those _knob_goblins won't know what hit 'em!" She giggled happily; won over by her sister's little speech of helping the innocent and put an arm around her shoulders. Both of them seemed to have forgotten that they were very much untrained in live combat.

"P-perhaps we could h-help, this one t-time. They are u-unused to combat b-but L-Lilliana's right, they have to learn s-sometime and i-if we help them . . . J-Jaheira, w-what do you s-say?" Khalid had moved a little closer to Lilliana, impressed with her determination but he still understood that she would need their help.

"This is the _last_ time that you will commit all of us to a task by just assuming we are okay with it. Whether you like it or not Khalid and I know a lot more than you do about the matters of the realms and you cannot just march in headstrong into any task where you feel someone is needy. This is no major catastrophe, this woman has only lost a ring, and we have no time to spend retrieving everyone's petty trinkets, especially for free. It would be a lovely thing indeed if money was an issue for no one, but it _is_ an issue for us. You yourself said you only had twelve pieces and Khalid and I only have fifty between us. There must be some sort of payment at some point. If we go around helping everyone for free we will be coin less and unable to refresh ourselves or our supplies and that _does_ _not_ leave us in a good position to help others. Is that understood?" Jaheira was very stern.

"Yes I understand . . . Thank you for helping and I'm sorry again for not asking. I should know better and my father raised me with better manners than that." The cleric's look was a sheepish one and Jaheira was already finding it hard to stay too mad at the girl but she had to learn that she couldn't go around fixing everyone's little problems.

"Another thing, you must be careful in the future as to how much information you give perfect strangers, not everyone is this world has innocent intentions and I'm sure that I don't have to tell _you_ that." Lilliana nodded as they got ready for their impromptu hobgoblin hunt. She knew that well enough after seeing those two disreputable fellows on the trip to the Friendly Arm.

Jaheira shot her husband a dark look. "You and I will talk later." She whispered in his ear, not kindly. The two sisters chattered excitedly between themselves and Imoen went on and on about how she was going to get the one that had taken Joia's ring in the backside with an arrow. The druid rolled her eyes at their youthful foolishness.

* * *

The woods to the west of the Friendly Arm were the boundary of the infamous Cloakwood and Lilliana didn't relish walking in there. However, she'd gotten not only herself, but her companions in this so she wouldn't back down now. Thankfully they hadn't traveled into the woods too deeply before their quarry was spotted. "You shuddup! Manure mouth!" One tall hobgoblin hollered to another as he stomped his fat booted foot into the ground.

There was a small encampment of ten of the ugly creatures and the cleric could smell their stink from here. Jaheira had summoned a squirrel to climb through the trees and get a closer look. It came back shortly and chattered something to the druid who nodded her head before releasing the small animal from its summons. Lilliana was curious as to how she communicated with an animal. Reading about it was a little different than actually doing it and the ways of the druidic orders of the realms were a mystery to the young cleric.

"He says that their leader has a flame dance ring sewn onto his collar, probably using it as some kind of mark of distinction." She whispered to Lilliana. The half high elf wondered how such creatures had learned to sew but now wasn't the time to ask unimportant questions.

"A-Are there any m-more than the t-ten we can see n-now?" Khalid asked, his long sword already drawn.

"No but he also said there is an armored man watching the creatures opposite from our position."

Lilliana raised an eyebrow. "A knight?"

Jaheira never looked away from their quarry as the group of four whispered between themselves. "It could very well be, though knights usually deem themselves above hunting a little group of hobgoblins." The note of disdain in her voice was obvious even when she was whispering and Lilliana shot her a dirty look which of course she didn't notice.

Imoen hid a smile at her sister's reaction. The human girl knew very well what Lilliana thought of knights in shining armor, or at least young _aspiring_ knights in shining armor. "I'm a pretty good shot. I could get off a couple rounds at them from the trees." The thief suggested but Khalid shook his head.

"N-No. I think L-Lilliana should try that c-conjuration of hers."

Lilliana smiled brightly at that. "Really?"

Khalid nodded. "If y-you are sure y-you can do it." The cleric shook her head in the affirmative. It was then decided that she was to conjure a 'command' effect on the camp and perhaps then the armored man on the other side would reveal his intentions.

Lilliana had never done this before and she felt her palms get sweaty with apprehension. She had practiced many times on illusions and the monks at Candlekeep had been astounded at her strong connection with Lathander and the ease with which her conjuration accuracy had grown. At first her deity seemed to bless her with very few conjurations but over the course of her time spent at the library the half high-elf had filled half a notebook with her gifted abilities. Be that as it may never once had she practiced on a very _real_ enemy.

_Here goes nothing!_ She thought as she placed her palms upwards. Her voice was barely audible as she spoke. "Convensus esperam corat agai, kiero." The words were of the language of the first warrior cleric of Lathander. Vasisvarhun, and it was his tongue, a language long dead that the clerics of the Morning Lord would use until the end of time. Lathanites simply called it "Vasis" She had to repeat the words three times before a mist appeared before her.

Even Jaheira had to bite back her surprise that Lilliana had called her conjuration so quickly. The half high-elf went into a brief trance like state as she moved her hands, focusing the mist before her into the clear shape of an orb. "Kiero." She whispered lastly and the orb seemed to erupt from her hands and through the trees bursting into a white spray right in the middle of the camp of surprised hobgoblins. The group watched as the mist cleared.

Lilliana came out of her trance-like conjuring just in time and was able to see that only two hobgoblins had resisted. The other eight lay on the ground motionless except for their heavy breathing. A few were even snoring. A wide smile was on her face and she quickly crossed herself, kissed her fingertips and raised them to the sky in a thank you to Lathander. The group moved forward with speed to attack the two conscious hobgoblins though Jaheira maintained a watchful eye for the stranger that had yet to make himself known. She didn't have long to wait.

Imoen was quickly shooting off arrows, and though several missed at first she eventually began to get her aim down and was doing quite well. Her sister wasn't doing hardly as well. Lilliana went to pull her war hammer out and it nearly dragged her to the ground. She meant what she had said to Imoen, she would never allow herself to become as crazed with anger as she had with the ghoul, for if that was what it took to be a juggernaut she'd rather be a weakling. The half high-elf willed herself to find a more natural strength until a thought came to her. Lilliana could conjure a mystical war hammer with Lathander's will and that would surely be easier to lift than her material weapon. The hobgoblins were preoccupied with the others and she watched with pride as Imoen deftly dodged the slow creatures. Lilliana placed the war hammer back in its holstering straps and began her conjuration.

A drowsy hobgoblin looked around him to see his companions all on the ground save two which were caught in a battle with two half-elves and a girl dressed in pink. His head hurt badly when he tried to stand but he managed and when he had gotten up fully he noticed an elf nearby . . . Without a weapon. He smiled a toothy grin as he drew his sword. "I get you little elfy!" He chuckled, but she seemed as if she didn't even notice that he had woken up. All the better for him.

The hobgoblin raised his short sword level with her neck, ready to cut her head off but a shout from the woods caught his attention. "Huh?" The hobgoblin gave a surprised grunt as a man wearing shiny plate mail came charging at him.

"You would harm an unarmed lady?! Foul creature! Taste the righteousness of Helm!" The hobgoblin growled and turned his attention to the knight.

"I get you stinkin human!" It growled and the knight just smiled.

"I don't think so." A massive two handed sword cut the hobgoblin down before he could say another word.

Still the elfess stood there and the knight wiped his sword off on the hobgoblin's shirt before placing it back in his scabbard. He reached out for the woman. "My lady?" Before he said anything else he was pushed into the elf and both of them landed on the ground. An angry hobgoblin stood before them, waving a rusty axe as he grunted. All around them the other creatures were waking up.

"Wha . . . What? What is. . Who are _you_?!" Finally the elf looked at him quizzically, coming out of whatever trance she had been in. The knight looked taken aback..

_She was just a child!_ Even though he knew elves aged differently than humans this one couldn't be much more than fourteen years of age. There was no time for any more discussion as the hobgoblin lunged at them. The girl screamed in surprise and the paladin rolled to cover her, taking the brunt of the weapon. The plate mail he wore was thick but not thick enough and he grunted in pain.

It wasn't long before he rose up from the ground, standing protectively in front of the girl. "Worry not child, I shall save you!" He unsheathed his weapon once again as the hobgoblin came at him and he easily dispatched it, turning to smile at the girl. "See, nothing to fear."

She pointed to his right. "Watch yourself! There are more of them! Why couldn't that conjuration have lasted just awhile longer?" The knight looked at her incredulously.

"_You _sent them all into temporary slumber?" She looked at him as if he had offended her.

"Yes . . . Look out!" Two more rose from the ground. The knight went after one and the girl went after the other.

"What are you doing child?!" He yelled out, blocking the hobgoblins double sword attack.

"Helping you!" She responded. He watched as she slid herself to the ground just as a hobgoblin lunged for her. She stuck out her leg and the creature went tumbling forward. "Take that!" The girl stood triumphantly pulling a war hammer that looked way too heavy for her from straps at her back.

After a few tries she managed to raise it up. The fallen hobgoblin rolled to left just as the hammer landed to the right of him. He was laughing as he got up. "Stoopid elfy!" She made a face at him and took a handful of some sort of dust from a pouch at her hip and blew it in the creature's face as he drew near her. He immediately started coughing, sneezing and itching at his eyes. "Burns!" The knight was too busy dealing with own assailant but he soon heard a resounding '_Cccrraaaccck!' _followed by the girl's exuberant cries.

"Is it dead? Did I do it? I did! Ha! I did it! He who laughs last laughs six feet under! Now who is stupid? That will teach you to steal people's mementos!"

She looked over at the knight with a brilliant smile and he couldn't help but smile back. Jaheira and Khalid had finished off most of them and Imoen had taken down one of the creatures on her own. Lilliana looked over at Jaheira triumphantly, her hands poised on her hips using the war hammer as a leaning post. "See? We didn't do so badly, did we Imoen?" Her sister grinned and put her bow away.

"Nope. Next time though I think I should practice my aim a little better before we go after anything else." The thief rubbed her sore hand where the drawstring had snapped back prematurely and got her on the knuckles.

"What did ya blow in his face anyway?" The red headed girl asked with a bemused smile.

"Red pepper. Jaheira gave me all our traveling seasonings to carry this morning." Lilliana responded as the two sisters fell into a fit of giggles.

"Seasoned hobgoblin . . . I like it!" Imoen responded when they had calmed down. The knight cleared his throat as all attention was drawn to him. Lilliana straightened her posture.

"Thank you for the assistance kind sir." She curtseyed to him as Jaheira rolled her eyes.

_Oh yes, sure, he helped once you already knocked most of them out!_

The man removed his helmet to reveal a young handsome, brown eyed face with cropped blonde hair. He smiled warmly at the cleric. "You are most welcome young miss. I am Lord Ajantis Ilvastarr, a paladin and knight in the service of the most Glorious Helm, under the guidance of the Order of the Most Radiant Heart, Waterdeep Chapter." When Lilliana offered him her hand he kissed it with a flourish that gained a rotten look from both Khalid and Jaheira. Imoen looked as blushing and shy as her sister.

"Lady Lilliana Avalon, cleric of the most Brilliant Lathander under the guidance of no one save myself I'm afraid. I have never had the opportunity to assign under a temple." She swept a hand over her other three companions. "Khalid and Jaheira Kostas of the Harpers and this is my sister . . . "

Before she said anything Imoen came forward and offered her own hand up which Ajantis kissed in much the same fashion as he had Lilliana's. "Imoen Voltaire. . Ahem! Mistress Imoen Voltaire." The knight smiled broadly.

"You both seem quite young to be out here on your own, but I see that you have done well. However if it pleases your Harper friends I think I should accompany you back home."

Khalid spoke up finally. "W-We are staying at the F-Friendly Arm Inn and I think as L-Lilliana's guardians that we are m-more than equipped to escort them b-back there . . .alone." He looked over at his wife who nodded.

Lilliana interjected before the knight responded. "Wait a moment. Could we not use his assistance to investigate the Nashkel mines?" She turned to Ajantis. "I mean . . . what assignment does your order have you under now?" He looked over at the scowling half elves and down at the green eyed girl before him.

"I was studying these hobgoblins to see if they were part of the bandit groups that have been reported when you showed up. I have been sent to investigate the high level of banditry that plagues this region as of late, but if there is trouble elsewhere that you know about than it is my duty to assist in any way I can and it would be my pleasure. What is it about this Nashkel mine that is so troubling?"

She went to elaborate but Jaheira beat her to it, shaking her head in resignation. Lilliana seemed overly trusting and it could very well prove her downfall. Jaheira wasn't sure if another stern talk would change the cleric's ways or not but she made a mental note to talk to her later anyway. Jaheira and Khalid didn't much care for paladins or knights as a rule either. They were a self righteous lot who often saw anything that didn't fit their mold of perfection as wrong. The druid didn't like it but the cat was already out of the bag and even if they _were_ arrogant paladins could be helpful.

"I'm sure you've encountered the news about the lack of quality in iron up and down the Sword Coast. As far as we can tell these bandits you speak of have been going after any good iron they can get their hands on, so it must be affecting them as well. If you're on a mission to investigate the banditry problem I would say it is connected to the iron shortage. The Nashkel mines have reported that all their iron has gone bad and that some miners have gone missing down in the mines themselves."

Khalid gaped at his wife. He hadn't expected her to welcome this paladin into their small group, but when she turned and regarded her husband he saw a look in her eyes that suggested she didn't like it anymore than he did but was making an attempt at being cordial.

"Truly? It sounds like a cause worthy of Helm's attention. If it is agreed then I will escort you to Nashkel and assist the citizens there." He had a proud stance that only seemed to impress the two sisters.

All four of them agreed to the paladin's company though Khalid and Jaheira were not nearly as thrilled about it as Lilliana and Imoen were. Jaheira crossly reminded Lilliana of her reason for being here and the search for Joia's ring began. It didn't take as long as originally thought since the ring was just where Jaheira's animal scout had reported; on the lapel of the leader of the hobgoblin camp. In addition to Joia's ring they found several other trinkets of value.

The walk back to the inn was a short one but Lilliana and Imoen's exuberance made it seem that much longer to the two put-off Harpers. "I guess it all worked out huh guys? I mean we got Joia's ring and some loot to sell, so we'll get coins after all! Not to mention me and Lil got to see real combat! It was exciting wasn't it Lil?!" Imoen chirped, fingering a pearl necklace that had been in a bag at one of the hobgoblins belts. Lilliana nodded.

"I'm glad they did not suffer too much though, I mean I know that they are evil mindless monsters but still. . . I would not have liked it if we had killed them cruelly. It's not like we could have left them alive though is it?" Lilliana added, a forlorn look in her eyes once the adrenaline of her first kill wore off and she realized it was a first _kill_.

"Sometimes Lady Lilliana we must walk a fine line between survival and docility. Do not worry yourself over hobgoblins though miss, the world is better without them, it is assured." Ajantis stated plainly and Lilliana sighed.

"I know and I guess I am going to have to get used to defending myself in so physical a manner . . . and it was a little exciting." She added with an embarrassed grin. Imoen elbowed her playfully.

"A _little_ exciting? Oh it was marvelous!" She giggled and Jaheira snorted.

"Oh yes, a battle the likes of which Toril has never seen before."

Lilliana looked at the druid curiously, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of her thin mouth. "Why Jaheira, is that sarcasm I detect?"

The half wood-elf shot her a dark look and walked ahead of the group with Khalid as they passed under the arch of the Friendly Arm's walls. The sisters giggled until they dragged the paladin into conversation. His stature made the two small girls look like midgets but the height difference didn't seem to bother either of them.

Ajantis had been surprised to find that Lilliana was twenty years old and Imoen was nineteen. They looked so much younger than that. When they got to giggling they seemed younger still, but there in the hobgoblin camp that immaturity had disappeared and he was truly impressed with how they had handled themselves even if it was their first real battle. They would need much more practice and the cleric especially needed some help with that hammer of hers. Ajantis had decided that if she was willing he would teach her in that regard and she had promise. She had after all conjured that 'command' effect back there and cured Ajantis' small wounds without much fuss.

Surely though two young girls and two half elf Harpers would need the help of a servant of the Order. Ajantis smiled to himself as Lilliana told him that she hoped they could help the people in Nashkel. _If this iron issue does connect with the banditry I would most surely be chosen for promotion and placement with my own contingent when my review comes up._

Joia was waiting outside her small shack, tucked into a corner safely on the Arm's inner grounds, when the group arrived and she looked at them anxiously. When Lilliana produced the flame dance ring from her pocket the woman bounded to her, taking the ring and hugging the half high-elf tightly. She was weeping with joy.

"Oh thank ye my lady! A pearl ye are! I shall be singin' yur praises every morning. Oh bless ye! Bless ye, yur friends _and_ Lathander!" She hugged Lilliana again and the girl hugged her back.

Jaheira couldn't help but smile at the exchange. The girl had jumped too readily into assisting the woman, but it was a nice thing that they had done here today and though the safety outside the Friendly Arm would likely not last long they had also removed one danger for those that would walk the road.

They sold the other items they had found for a grand total of eight hundred gold pieces. It wasn't a fortune but it was enough to buy more potions, re-supply themselves, get a decent meal, have their weapons cleaned and rent more rooms at the Friendly Arm.

Khalid didn't want to spend another night and Jaheira didn't really want to either but even as angry as she had been at Lilliana before both her and Imoen had earned some relaxation before the long trip to Nashkel. The Harpers took the time to outline their plans, with plenty of interjection from Ajantis, and decided that there would have to be a small stop over at the town of Beregost before moving even farther south towards Nashkel. It was late into the evening by the time any of them bedded down but rest came much more easily than it had the day before.

* * *

_In the dreams of the girl the entity could touch her in a way that the meddling fool 'father' of hers had kept it from doing during her waking hours. She was wandering the fog of her dreams now and the entity watched with a sneer. Here it could speak to her without her precious Lathander watching, where he couldn't report the intrusion to the thrice damned Pantheon. From the haze it conjured what she yearned for . . . Her home._

_Candlekeep rose before the half high-elf and she gasped at the sight. "I know you wish to return to this life my dearest but you cannot." The entity spoke in the voice of Gorion, creating a matching visage that it knew would be the salve to Lilliana's wounds. She looked at it with tears in her eyes and ran to the being. It embraced her tightly as she cried of how she loved Gorion and missed him. "Oh I know star shine, I know, but you must move on." She didn't want to accept those words. Lilliana wanted to know why she couldn't just go back to the way things were._

_Just as quickly as it had raised Candlekeep it banished the image back into oblivion and the girl gasped, pulling away. The image of Gorion held a kind smile. "The way is shut to you now and to return there would be folly. They'll not have you back, you know this. There is a path that you must take, the path suggested by those with whom you travel and if you walk it correctly, it will lead you to find the peace that you want."_

_Her reaction pleased the entity greatly. She looked upon it with wonder, not believing it's words at first. Out of the dream rendered woods around them it created a looking glass. Lilliana turned and watched. Before her she was shown images of herself. She was striding with purpose, wearing an armor of brilliance as she swung two glowing war hammers. _

_"You are a weapon of justice and peace. A weapon that you must use upon the foul beast that separated us from each other. " The half high-elf watched with awe, not recognizing how powerful she would become. 'So powerful!' The being thought, quite thrilled of the path it had seen laid out. How surprising it had been to the entity to discover that such a fragile seed would grow into a bloom so fierce that it would destroy anything in it's path._

_The being had always had a gift of foresight and it had saved it from defeat on many occasions. The Book of Chaos that this child held in her traveling sack had once been it's most prized possession with it's visions of the future but as the entity had grown in power it no longer needed it. It took great force to even read the pages of the book, for the tome itself existed between two different planes of existence. The being knew that Lilliana wouldn't ever be able to read it and so there was no worry that images of the future would turn her away from what the entity wanted._

_Lilliana wondered if this vision was truly her. "Indeed my child, indeed. You must take vengeance on the man that killed me and then . . His power will become your own. You can use it to protect all those of innocence. No longer will fathers be taken so unfairly from their daughters." Her green eyes were bright with interest at the words the entity told her. She was one who craved peace and harmony and it was this bait that was hung before her. "I would never ask you to commit violence unless it was absolutely necessary and I'm afraid it is. If you do not stop my murderer no one will and he will obliterate not only our former home, but the entire Sword Coast. He already has destroyed much."_

_The half high-elf said that she couldn't do it, that she knew nothing of fighting or power. The entity held out it's palm to her and she took it. "I do not ask you to do this alone . . . I will always be watching you my dearest. To prove my sincerity I have a gift from beyond the void. If anyone were to find out you have this gift I could punished, even in my death. So you must tell no one of your present." Lilliana nodded that she understood._

_The entity glowed with a breathtaking black light that surged down it's arms until it had reached it's hand, joined with Lilliana's. She seethed at the stinging pain but the being assured her that the pain was necessary and would be passing. The half high-elf closed her eyes as the powerful glow sunk into her veins, creating trails of black before it reached her eyes where it seemed to settle._

_She dared to ask what gift had been given to her and the being answered. "An ability that will allow you to heal yourself far more quickly than the cures you can conjure on your own. Simply think of me and I shall hear you in the void and will cure your wounds. It isn't absolute, I haven't the power to cure grievous wounds and you still can be hurt, so take care of yourself nonetheless. I will try to visit you when next you sleep and if I can will give you another gift, one to help you fight evil. For now, heed my words and remember my dearest child, you must travel where these companions of yours wish, for it will lead you to the path that you need find to locate the one who has caused the world so much pain."_

_Lilliana hugged the figure fiercely weeping against it's shoulder. "I will do as you say! Oh how I yearn to see you again!" As it held her she couldn't see the dark smile that graced the being's face. _

_"Your father is here now and though when you wake you won't see me, know that I am watching you always. . . .my child." Eyes that it had made appear gray changed into a deep pulsing red as it kissed Lilliana's hair. "Always."_


	4. Chapter Three: Highway Robbery

**Disclaimer:**

_"Forgotten Realms: Baldur's Gate" belongs to Bioware, TSR, and Black Isle Studios. Lilliana is mine and situations that you don't recognize from the game are mine, all other material and inspiration for my material is under copyright by the above named. Additional Forgotten Realms material included in this story but not in the game belongs to Wizards of the Coast._

_**Words from the Author: **_

_As always each chapter produced is a labor of love and a freely given thank you for those who read my words, however I feel I should thank you for your encouragement here in the notation in a more 'official' manner. Struggling with a story or slaving over a character (or for instance spending five hours on the computer trying to find everything you could about the Harpers) certainly has it's pay off when you know someone can sit down and enjoy your work. So thank you dear readers, you are my writing life blood. _

_Though not featured in "Highway Robbery" I have been toying with the idea of taking a moment away from Lilliana's romp and take a look at what is going on in the life of Anomen. Not so much an entire chapter but a subsection perhaps. So if you'd like that idea let me know in your next review._

_In this chapter there is the mention of "__awakened of Lathander__" and "__dawnbringers/dawnmistress__". Though many fans of Forgotten Realms probably know what those terms are I'll elaborate just in case. I'd expand upon it within the story but it would just seem like a lot of explanatory dialogue that in this case might detract from the tale. An "awakened" is an intiate cleric of Lathander that is considered to have only just 'awakened' to the call of the Morning Lord. They can also be clerics who have not signed under a Temple and so there fore have not undergone the Test of Light to become a Dawnbringer, which would be a preist/preistess of Lathander called "dawnmaster" if you are male or "dawnmistress" if you are female. _

_Later on you will see the usage of 'morning lord' or 'morning lady' When 'Morning Lord' is capitalized it is in reference to Lathander himself, when 'morning lord' is not capitalized it is the term used for a high priest of His Most Radiant, and of course 'morning lady' would be the female version of that title._

_Well as promised we do have an elf in this chapter, two in fact, and while I think one of them you were assuming would be introduced because they were featured earlier the other I hope comes a pleasant surprise. Don't trust my word on this though, because 'trust is for the foolish, and the dead!' _;)

_I've gone astray from the game's beaten path here but hopefully I'm maintaining the theme of the story and I must say that I never expected what happened in this chapter to occur, but as any author will tell you; stories have a habit of trying to write themselves. This chapter is a good example of that. I've also gone a bit more inside Nimbul's head. He is by FAR the assasin with the most presence for me in the game out of all those bounty hunters but I wonder if you, dear reader, are going to find his presence satisfying or terrifying . . .mayhaps a bit of both? _:)_ Enjoy and as always thank you for joining Lilliana on her journey!_

* * *

_**Chapter Three:**_

_**Highway Robbery**_

* * *

**T**he group of five would have made good time from the Friendly Arm had the cleric in their party not insisted on stopping at every abandoned caravan wreckage to check for survivors. The fact that many of them had been there so long the wood of the wagons was rotting seemed lost on her.

Imoen rubbed her arms, a chill _not_ caused by the temperature creeping into her flesh. She had been a survivor of a caravan raid herself before Winthrop had come along and rescued her and the memories haunted her still. Thinking about such things made her crave comfort. Imoen walked next to her sister, hooking her arm through the half high-elf's and laid her strawberry blonde head on Lilliana's shoulder as they walked.

Many of the ruined sites dotted the sides of the Coast Way Road that led to Beregost and it seemed explanation enough for why the group had encountered no other traffic that morning. They had mostly kept to the grass, the open road seeming unsafe, but the plain grasslands of the coast didn't offer much in the way of cover either. There were thick woodlands to their west but they were far off and the only trees in their area were in patches. Such small and sparse vegetation didn't offer a moving group any cover but Lilliana found herself glancing at them in worry. They _would_ offer a hiding spot for brigands.

Springtime had always seemed so lively, when the flora came back into bloom after a winter of hibernation but here it seemed bleached by a sun that felt more harsh than it ought to and even the wildlife seemed dismal. It was well past mid day now and thick clouds had concealed the sun shine and Jaheira swore she could feel the faint moisture of rain on the breeze.

"These fiends must pay for what they have done. Such depravity! There is a heavy sense of evil about these wreckages . . .. So _many_." Ajantis remarked, even _his_ strong façade marked by a look of depression.

"_Too_ many." Lilliana responded sadly after they had left yet another ruined caravan, one which just like the others had no survivors. "I do not care to think of what might have happened to the people that once traveled in those wagons." Tears were stinging at the corners of her eyes and she blinked them away. "Robbery is bad enough, but those caravans . . .it was if they tore them apart and the last one . . . So much blood. How can men do such things?" She asked, not expecting a response.

No one answered the half-high elf. To say that the robberies had been committed for profit or iron was an obvious truth and didn't adequately explain why the attacks had been so brutal. Even the Harpers, who had seen many terrible things, were surprised at the viciousness of the scenes of violence that had been left behind. Jaheira had complained about Lilliana's insistence to investigate each wreckage but after the third one, where the druid had found a little girl's abandoned rag doll, she said nothing.

"B-Beregost is not f-far. If we p-pick up our p-pace we should make it b-before nightfall and I t-think that would b-be a splendid idea." Khalid commented, looking about him nervously. They were far too exposed out here and the signs of bandit attacks all around them made him uneasy. He was a skilled fighter, his wife an accomplished druid and Ajantis seemed a capable paladin but the caravans showed clear signs of being attacked by _large_ groups and with two inexperienced young girls in their party they were an easy target. He didn't like the idea of being out here after dark at all.

"Yes husband, I think that is a wise judgment. Come on girls, I know we are all tired but just look at it this way. The sooner we arrive in Beregost the sooner you can both rest in a nice warm bed." Jaheira remarked to Lilliana and Imoen who walked at the back of the group. Gorion's daughter nodded and smiled half heartedly at the druid.

"I _am_ gettin a little sleepy." Imoen remarked from her side and seemed to have convinced herself to walk faster, pulling Lilliana along with her.

A small knoll had been blocking the sight of the town of Beregost but as the party moved across it the few houses on the outskirts began to appear. Khalid breathed a sigh of relief as they continued forward. He was about suggest to his wife that they stop by Thunderhammer's Smithy before going to an inn but a sound from the collection of trees to the group's left caught his attention.

"So what we got 'ere eh? Mommy, daddy, their two little tots and their large uncle. Family trip huh?" A pony tailed blonde man had made himself known, a sniggering grin on his stubbled face.

"Explain your intentions!" Ajantis commanded, immediately getting an uncomfortable sense of this man's persona. He placed a hand on the hilt of his sword as Khalid and Jaheira made similar movements with _their_ weapons.

The leather clad man continued to smile at them in a way that reminded Lilliana of the time a spice merchant had been telling her what a 'pretty little thing' she was. Her father had promptly threatened the man with death if he didn't get away from his daughter.

"T-That will not be necessary Lord Ilvastarr. We are just on our way to Beregost sir, so we do not have the time to stop for pleasantries I am afraid." The half high-elf remarked, her nerves causing a vocal stutter, as Imoen watched the exchange tensely.

"Mmm, yes a pity. We don't be havin the time to chit chat much neither."

Lilliana purposely ignored the man's questionable 'we' and made a move to walk forward. "Yes, well, good day to you then sir."

At least a dozen more men emerged from hiding. "Can't be lettin ya go niether. You've got some iron on ya and we'll be taking it. Wouldn't do to have ya runnin' off and telling someone about this nasty bit'o business, so we'll be takin your lives as well." He snickered as his fellows drew out their long bows.

"It was an ambush all along!" Ajantis bellowed. "By Helm you will not lay a finger on the ladies! Foul bandit scum!" His sword was already at the ready and Khalid also had jumped quickly into battle as Jaheira cast supportive blessings.

Imoen was frantically trying to notch arrows as Lilliana immediately went into a 'hold person' conjuration. The arrows of the bandits flew far too close to her frame for comfort and she ducked just in time, though it disrupted her conjuring.

"Lil, I . . AHH!" Imoen screamed as one of the wooden missiles got her in the arm, it's sharp metal tip biting deeply through the fabric of her shirt. The aim of their attackers was obviously well practiced and they had bypassed the human girl's protective leather with ease.

Lilliana went to help her sister but another projectile was headed in her direction, finding the soft flesh behind her left knee and she went down with a shrill yell of pain. She could hear the bandits yelling at each other and it seemed that they clearly outnumbered the paladin and the two Harpers. _There were so many of them! _This was far different than their encounter with the hobgoblins.

The half high-elf crawled to her crying sister who had been sent to the ground by three arrows which stuck out from her arms and leg. With aim so accurate it was a wonder they hadn't gotten Lilliana and Imoen where it would kill them. The next shout made it apparent why.

"Kill those other three quickly! Mind ye the girls! Boss'll be wantin new toys, and he nay be wantin 'em too damaged!"

This whole thing already seemed like a dream; something she had imagined in a nightmare. Jaheira screamed her husband's name and Lilliana tried to see what was going on but with all the bandits in motion there was little she could visually discern..

Reaching Imoen had been a chore in and of itself but now that the bandits had gotten the girls on the ground they seemed to be ignoring them. "Hold on love, I'm here." She seethed through gritted teeth, the arrow behind her knee biting like an ill-mannered cat. "I'm going to get these out."

The red head shook her head. "No! They're barbed! You'll only break them off!"

Lilliana knew that well enough and it was what had stopped her from pulling the arrow from her own flesh but she couldn't just let her sister suffer like this. "It's okay. I'm going to do it with a conjuration . . You trust me right?" She smiled at Imoen despite her pain, the sounds of battle heavy in her ears.

Imoen smiled back, wincing at the pain. "Ya gotta ask? Course I do, silly." She tensed up as Lilliana began her conjuration, fighting through the pain. There must have been something on the tips of those arrows for it didn't feel like just a normal wound at all.

Words that had come from a dream, from the vision of her father, recurred inside Lilliana's memory and she tried to use what her father had given her on her sister. Slowly it seemed to be working.

Imoen screamed in pain. "It hurts!" Her sister nearly screamed with her in sympathy, trying not to cry.

"I know sweetling. I know it's hard but I have to concentrate or I'll never get these out." Imoen nodded, tears running down her face as Lilliana began again.

"Hullo luvies." A male voice came from above them and Imoen cried out, but before Lilliana could react a potion bottle was thrown to the ground and exploded, enveloping them in a thick mist.

"Imoen!" The half high-elf managed to shout while she began choking on the heavy air. It sounded like someone was screaming her name in a deep tunnel as Lilliana blacked out.

* * *

Viconia De'Vir looked about her surroundings. She had been imprisoned for more days now than she could count and it was a wonder her captors hadn't attempted to take advantage of her. She smiled at that thought. _No doubt scared of the prowess of a Drow priestess! Fools! _Though she was ashamed that she had ever been captured in the first place and even more so that she hadn't been able to escape yet. The men that held her captive overwhelmed her while she was meditating and knocked her out with some kind of bottled mist and she had only seen her captives briefly after they'd imprisoned her.

There was an opening in the top of the elaborate tent she was in that allowed for smoke from the ratty stove inside it to escape. From that hole the dark-elf could see a brief glimpse of night sky and stars. _Shar! Help me from this prison!_ She called out to her goddess.

It had been many years since the drow elfess had fled her homeland after the destruction of House De'vir and fled to the surface and she had long ago abandoned Lolth as her deity of choice. It was the night goddess Shar that gave her blessings to the lone De'Vir daughter now.

Even her conjurations from the deity hadn't helped her escape the cage she had been placed in and she figured that there must be a dampening enchantment on it, for she couldn't even call upon a simple 'bless' conjuration. _They are right to fear my power!_ She thought, looking at the other four empty cages in the tent. They were all unoccupied save hers and despite their fear of the dark elf she still wondered why they hadn't made _one_ single attempt at doing anything to her, for she had to admit to herself that if she were truly that frightening they never would have taken her prisoner in the first place. Voices outside arrested her attention.

"Just stuff them in the tent with that drow witch. Let her forked tongue curse _them_ out. I'm sure she'll love talking with an elf and a human."

_More prisoners! By Shar, what now?! _She recognized the voice as that of the one that had given most of the orders around here, though from the other conversations she had overhead he wasn't the leader. Another voice came after his.

"Cute little things ain't they? The boss'll be happy. Always did prefer the squeals of the cutesy girls the best. When does he get back anyhow?"

The first voice answered again. "None of your damn business, that's when! Go take em to get bandaged up and properly clothed. Then put 'em in the cages and get your lard arse back to work!"

Viconia sneered angrily, not that anyone could see it. _Yes, clothed 'properly' such as I am?!_ She looked down at herself and the courtesan like garb they must have dressed her in while she was unconscious. The thin outfit that could barely be called a dress left very little to the imagination. It angered her further that they'd had the opportunity to ogle her naked form when they had taken the clothes that she _had_ been wearing off and if she ever got out of here she'd flay them alive for daring to even look at her. _Hideous males!_

It was hours later when she heard any noise again. "Got some playmates for you drow, that is when they wake up. Maybe you can tell them about your _master plan _to escape." The man laughed in disdain as two prone female forms were carried into the tent by his cohorts.

Each of them was placed in their own cage and even with the lanterns inside the tent Viconia couldn't see what they looked like. All infravision told her was that they were breathing heavily and were quite warm.

"More superior females that you had to surprise in order to overpower? Are you too afraid of _them_ as well that you will dump them here and leave them? Poor little males, all you can do is think about them, dreaming that you could one day touch them. It's a wonder you even have the bravery to look at them . . .though that is doubtless the only thing you _could_ do, impotent as you are! Pigs!" She spat out angrily. Time hiding amongst the surfacers, sometimes disguising herself as one of them, had taught her common and over time she'd become quite articulate with it's usage, not the least of which were cuss words.

The men just laughed and left, no doubt bragging to the other males about how clever they were. How Viconia wanted to watch them writhe in pain. She looked over at the two new comers and raised one ivory brow in thought. Perhaps they would help her finally escape this place and take her vengeance. That was if they didn't react as other surfacers had when they saw what she was.

Unable to find the peace of meditative rest she instead leaned against the cold bars of her cage and waited for the captured prisoners that now shared the tent to come out of the unconscious state which had allowed them to be brought here. She thought of new ways to torture her captors as she waited. Plenty of fun ideas came to mind and she smiled at the image of each one.

* * *

_Khalid! Jaheira! Ajantis! Imoen!_ Each name burst in Lilliana's brain like a worrisome snake biting her inside her skull. Her eyes came open quickly and she shouted the names as she finally came to. Trying her sister's name again was rewarded with a woozy answer.

"Lil? Ohh . . My head. What happened? Where are we?"

With sickening clarity the half high-elf realized that they had been captured by the bandits and were now in a cage inside a huge tent. Pale sunlight filtered inside it from a small smoke hole at the top. Well, at least two of them had been captured, the other three were no where in sight. _Oh gods! Have they been killed then?!_

"Those men must have taken us! I don't know where the others are!" For the first time she noted that the arrow behind her knee was gone and though it still stung a little the pain was mostly gone as well. "Imoen are you alright?" She called out to her sister who was in a separate cage.

"Yeah, I think so. I guess they bandaged us up. At least the arrows are gone and I feel a _little_ better. How considerate of them." Lilliana smiled at the sarcastic tone in her sister's voice. _Yup, she's alright_.

"Can you pick the locks and get us out of here?" The cleric asked.

"No. The hygiene challenged buffleheads took all my lock picks. I guess they didn't match our new slave girl costumes huh?" Imoen snorted in disgust.

It was then that the half high-elf took in what her and Imoen were wearing and that all their other equipment was absent. Lilliana felt practically naked in the clothes that had been placed on her. The garment was embarrassingly thin and had slits up both sides of the skirt with nothing but a band of winding fabric to cover the chest. Her feet were bare, the uncomfortable sensation of the rough straw of the cage's floor against them. She felt deeply disturbed at having been undressed while unconscious and placed in this . . . thing. "Well, they may have taken our supplies but perhaps we can still get out. Maybe Lathander will bless me with a knock conjuration, but we have to be more quiet, someone may hear us."

A female's voice, dripping with cynicism and an accent the half high-elf had never heard before, came from across the room. Apparently they weren't the only two in there.

"Do not bother _elf_, they enchanted the cages against any clerical conjurations and probably magical spells as well. Though I don't suppose you two know any of those and I wouldn't worry about being quiet, as long as you don't shout. If you can't hear _them_ that probably means they are too far away to hear _you_."

"Holy cat's cradle! It's a dark elf! Lil! She's a dark elf!" Imoen cried out in surprise when their cynic neighbor came into view from inside her own cage. Lilliana could see from the ebony skin, severely pointed ears and long snow white hair that her sister was right and she bit back her own surprise.

"How _astute_ of you, _human_." The drow remarked dryly, wrapping her small hands around the bars of her enclosure. Imoen wrinkled her nose at the drow.

"How does a dark elf get captured anyway?" She asked and a brief flicker of embarrassment crossed the female's face.

"Much the same way that you two did I imagine. These males are capable of little else so they must render their captives comatose in order to seize them. I have no memory of the time between when they accosted me and when I regained consciousness, in this _accursed_ cage! I have a very high resistance to magic but whatever it was they used bypassed that as if I were little more than a mewling surfacer spawn."

Lilliana had never seen a dark elf before in her life, which wasn't too hard to fathom considering that _very_ few lived above ground, for obvious reasons. She'd learned their language as a child from a primer that a surface drow had written after his escape once he had learned common, so it wasn't impossible that another drow had fled to the surface and learned common but never before had the cleric heard of a _female_ dark elf doing so. "You speak the common tongue very well." She commented and earned an amused look.

"I've had to in order to converse with the simple minded creatures of the surface."

Her tone was a little waspish but Lilliana couldn't blame her considering the situation.

"I'm Lady Lilliana Avalon and this is my sister Mistress Imoen Voltaire. We had three other companions, two half elf Harpers, Master Khalid and Mistress Jaheira Kostas and a human paladin, Lord Ajantis Ilvastarr, but it seems they were not captured and I fear the worst." Even if the situation was crazy and the dark elf probably didn't much care for titles, Lilliana used them anyway. _Propriety should never wait for ideal moments, proper manners should exist no matter the time or place._ The words of her father came to her, and brought a measure of comfort at their memory.

"Viconia, of House De'Vir, _formerly_ of House De'Vir as it is now. I have not heard any of the names you mentioned spoken by our _hosts_ and if these companions of yours were all males I'm sure our captors had little use for them here at the main camp. They are probably dead now, though with the incompetence of these that would call themselves 'bandits' there is the possibility they are still alive."

Imoen didn't like the thought of their companions being murdered and neither did Lilliana, their faces reflected that concern. "Jaheira is a female." She informed the drow and Viconia studied the half high-elf before she spoke again and it made Lilliana feel weird to be scrutinized so.

"Then perhaps she was taken elsewhere. I haven't been outside this tent since they captured me but they've come in here to taunt me, though my power frightened them too much to try anything else. I have heard things from outside though. From what I can tell only those that can work as slaves in some mine of theirs are taken hostage or those of an attractive enough quality for forcible mating. Children, elderly and any one else that doesn't fit their standards are disposed of. You would be surprised what they talk of freely as they rut about outside."

Lilliana gasped at her words. "That's ghastly! Do you . . . .do you think they intend such with us?" She dared to ask, pleasantly surprised at the dark elf's willingness to talk to them.

"It's hard to say, but the fact that they placed you in the same tent as I am in tells me that you won't be clumped with the other females they captured. Last night when they brought you here they were talking about their 'boss', it's likely we are all being saved as a special present for him. They must view me as a perfect female, and quite a 'gift' and the both of you look attractive enough, for your race. I haven't seen their leader, probably another insipid human like the rest of them, but he's due back soon from what his lackeys speak of when they think I'm not listening and I have excellent hearing.

While I have not seen any of this camp they have brought us to, I am sure this is their leader's abode. There are other sections to it behind those flaps back there . . .bedchambers and such. I've seen them briefly when the men go in there to retrieve supplies." A look of distaste crossed Viconia's face.

"I've tried escape many times but so far nothing works and they won't dare to let me out. They gave me a pot to 'relieve' myself in and they empty it only when they've knocked me out again. I do not know what luck it was that allowed them to create something that actually works. No doubt they stole it from someone else . . .I can't imagine that they are intelligent enough to have made the 'potion of sleep' on their own.

Bah, enough of this! We must formulate an escape plan. While I would have preferred more capable beings to aid me, you will have to do. Perhaps when this leader returns we will get the opportunity to flee."

Imoen didn't much care for the drow's superior attitude. "For a gal that thinks she's above everyone, ya didn't wind up much better off than those you would call lesser did ya? Maybe Lil and me don't wanna go with a snot bag like _you_! You can find your own way out, cause we ain't gonna help ya!" She shouted, glaring at the dark elf with as much dislike as she could muster. The female drow flinched at that and for a moment Imoen felt supremely proud of herself until Lilliana reprimanded her.

"Imoen Voltaire! Never have I heard you speak to someone so crassly. That was _unnecessary_. She is just upset, she doesn't mean anything by it. We are all three of us in this mess together. If we start to fight then we will never get out of here and then we'll never know what happened to our companions."

Viconia watched the exchange between them curiously. _Surfacers behaved so oddly_. The red headed human looked hurt when the black haired elf spoke to her but she was still giving Viconia dagger eyes.

"You can't seriously be stickin up for _her_, she's a drow!" She cried, pointing at the source of her ire. The elf shook her head, her voice calm but stern.

"No Imoen, she is a person and she is also a captive just as we are. We have yet to be given the opportunity to even know her yet and we won't if we spend our time arguing. She's right, we have to figure out a plan for escape."

Lilliana smiled at her sister, unable to give her a reassuring hug. She felt bad for raising her voice and she knew the situation made tensions run higher than normal, but it wasn't right to judge someone after only a few moments of discussion. "Come now sister mine. Just give her a chance." Imoen was still glaring at the dark elf but finally she turned around and nodded.

"Alright . . .for now."

The cleric breathed a sigh of relief and turned her attention on Viconia. "Mistress De'Vir, we will aid you in any way we can."

From her behavior Viconia guessed that the brunette was actually a half breed. Why else would she behave so naively human? Such a revelation only served to make the situation even less enjoyable.

* * *

Two rabbits scurried about in the underbrush, unaware of the wood elf that sat perched high in a tree observing them. They were about the only movement the elf had seen all morning, though it was early yet. He sighed and rubbed at a knot that was forming in the back of his neck. Kivan Alieradon was a ranger, but even rangers could feel the toll of spending days of observation without rest.

In the past year he had found that meditation didn't come easily, not since the death of his beloved, but it had been three days since he had rested and it was beginning to get hard to keep his eyes open. His quarry must have been having a similar problem because they had moved their camp so rapidly in the past month that Kivan couldn't keep up. Of course the brief trip to Candlekeep _had _set him back but it had been at his father's behest and no matter the strain between himself and Sartonis he would never disobey a request from his sire. After delivering a letter to Gorion Avalon he had been able to get back on the hunt.

The bandits that he sought had increased their raids which would seem a risky move, except that catching them seemed to be getting more difficult, not less. Kivan would never give up though, not until he had avenged the death of the only elfess he had ever loved. The memory of her dying words to him made the elf cringe in pain and he blinked back tears. "_Live not in the memory of me, my love" _Deheriana had said. No matter the request he couldn't help but live in her memory and he couldn't stop loving her.

Faint sounds came from the east and the elf's ears twitched at the racket. His greenish brown eyes were drawn in slits as he concentrated on that noise. It sounded too big to be smaller animals, and while it could be wolves it also didn't seem heavy enough to be a bear. Then he heard voices and knew what it was. _People!_ The wood elf shifted his weight, barely making a noise, as he moved to watch this invader of the forest.

There were three of them, and not a one wore the garb that the bandits favored. He called out to them, as they searched about for the source of the voice. "Hold! What travelers would be roaming this deeply into the woods? Explain yourselves."

Thick with a Tethyrian accent, a female's voice responded. "Show _yourself_ and perhaps we will be more inclined for introductions."

A male's voice came after hers, his voice deep and sure. "We warn you sir, if you are in league with the brigands we would hunt than you had better make your presence visible so we can get on with it! We have been accosted and two of our companions have been abducted. I'm in no mood for games!" The female shouted at the man's words, calling him a fool, and Kivan tried not to laugh.

"Outlaws would not behave in such a fashion, I do not believe, nor would they make so much clatter. If you are searching for them then our goals are in kind." He dropped down easily from his perch in the trees. "I am Kivan Alieradon and I would hunt these bandits that you seek." He removed the hood of his cloak and revealed himself, his face friendly but serious.

Two of the group of three were half elves and the other a tall human. "If you are going to have any success in your search you must move with more stealth. If I heard you coming than others easily could have." He spoke to the woman, indicating the armored man beside her.

"Fine advice Kivan. I am Jaheira and this is Khalid . . .the zealous one is Ajantis." The tall man bristled.

"I'm not in a disposition for your ill mannered jibes this morning Harper!" Before an argument began the wood elf interjected.

"These lost companions you spoke of . . .Ajantis is it? . . . .were they taken by a group of leather clad hooligans that ambushed you with more members than was necessary?" When the man nodded a dark look came across Kivan's eyes.

"I've seen many a brigand before but these . . .they would leave behind such scenes of brutality and it seemed their success at attacking us was aided by some unknown force." The druid remarked, the one she had introduced as Khalid seemed to agree.

"Y-yes and if not for my wife . . ." he smiled warmly at the druid and continued. "Then w-we would h-have likely b-been k-killed ourselves. T-They wielded w-weapons of an u-unnatural strength and t-their numbers nearly overwhelmed us. J-Jaheira c-conjured an insect s-storm and w-we were able to escape, b-but . . .there w-were two young g-girls w-with us and w-we got separated. The b-bandits t-took them!" The red headed half elf looked deeply stricken with guilt, a look echoed just as deeply in the brown eyes of the human.

"We failed them. They needed our protection and we failed them! Never should we have fled. I burn with anger to think of what the fiends could be doing to them right now. It was folly to wait until morning!"

Kivan was sympathetic but it wouldn't help find their missing companions. "It sounds to me like all three of you would have been killed had you stayed and fought it out and then there would be no one to look for the girls in your care. Only two of you have infravision and even with that searching for anyone in the woods at night would not be nearly as productive as during the day."

Ajantis bowed his head in sad resignation and nodded. Jaheira gave Kivan a questioning look. "What do you know of these highwaymen?" The elf answered, his voice deep with barely unveiled anger.

"I have been tracking these bandits for some time. They continually move their main camp, and I think they are getting ready for yet _another_ move so if we are to find these girls of yours then we must progress quickly."

* * *

The drow still could not believe the half-high elf's plan had worked. The simplicity of it irked her, to think that she could not pull it off on her own. Imoen had pretended to be unconscious and Lilliana had acted as if her companion had a contagious illness. _'The Toad Plague' _She'd called it and Viconia chuckled at it despite herself. The bandit that had come into the tent to investigate her shouts looked positively horrified at the idea of catching anything with such a name. While he checked the 'unconscious' Imoen she deftly had stolen a dagger from his boot without him ever being the wiser.

She'd sprung up from the floor of her cage then, claiming that it was just food poisoning. The bandit had given all of them a look as if he had drank curdled milk, warning them to not draw his attention to such a matter as that again. He need not worry, for they wouldn't have to. The dagger Imoen had 'relieved' the bandit of was enough for her to jimmy the lock of her cage open and she repeated the action for Lilliana's and Viconia's cages.

Getting out of the main tent had been another task but after a few tries, with Viconia and Lilliana playing lookout, Imoen had managed to cut a tear in the fabric of the tent's skin near the back and all three females had escaped through it. Viconia had quickly given them a lesson in stealth and they seemed to be following it quite nicely as they had moved nimbly from hiding spot to hiding spot until they had found themselves near the edge of the large camp.

For a human and a half high-elf they hadn't done too badly. Such thoughts ceased as her attention was drawn to the movement before her. "They will notice we are gone soon. We should move quickly."

Lilliana nodded beside her as all three lay on the ground, concealed by the piles of supplies that sat around them. The sun was out this morning and the dark elf had to keep shielding her eyes away from it's brightness, while the half high-elf's mood only seemed to be improved in the stark light.

"I don't suppose we could, ya know, get our stuff?" Imoen asked, having formed an uneasy alliance with the dark elf at her sister's behest. Viconia shook her head.

"We haven't the time, your things will have to be replaced. I would have no idea which tent to even suggest looking if we _did_ have the time."

Lilliana bit down on her lip at the thought. Some of the items that had been taken were her father's and could not be replaced, still perhaps the only memento she needed was his memory and he had said in the dream that he would watch over her always. Viconia's whispered voice brought her wayward mind back to the present.

"Pay attention now. See that man over there, drinking? We will wait for him to leave . . .It should be soon, he's been downing that mug pretty rapidly."

The skinny man finished off what ever it was he had been drinking and threw the cup aside, letting out a loud belch. Lilliana wrinkled her nose in disgust. She had been watching for any other captives, but unless they were in the tents she had seen no one but the men. The guard they were watching, one closest to the safety of the woods around the camp, started fidgeting where he was leaning against a pile of crates and finally got up, already undoing his pants as he headed for the bushes.

"Now!" Viconia whispered, motioning the other two forward. Crawling out into the open sent a shiver of fear up Lilliana's spine but she managed to make it to the woods, far to the left of where the man had gone. When all three females had huddled behind a the large trunk of a tree they listened for sounds of pursuit . . .there were none. Now all they had to do was put some distance between themselves and bandit encampment.

"Do you know where we are? We were headed for Beregost before this happened. Could we still be close?" Lilliana asked, her voice still a whisper.

Viconia shrugged. "With the morning sun in the east I can only say that south is this way . . ." She pointed in the direction. "and Beregost is to south of where I was captured and you too from your description. Once we are out these woods we can better discover our exact location."

Imoen and Lilliana looked at the surrounding thick trees, the only clear spot was the camp behind them. They both groaned. Getting out of the woods was going to be a chore. Lilliana looked down at her bare feet and the clothes she was wearing. It also wasn't going to be a comfortable trip.

With all their supplies gone they were ill equipped to defend themselves, but once they had gotten out of the cages at least Lilliana and Viconia could call upon their conjurations. Thinking about the hobgoblin fight reminded the awakened of Lathander that trying to conjure in the heat of a battle could be deadly. If Ajantis hadn't intervened during her first attempt she probably wouldn't be standing where she was right now. Though she could still wish that she was standing somewhere a whole lot better.

"Well thanks for gettin' us out . . .I guess, even though _I_ did most of the work . . .but you can go now. Me and Lil will be okay." Imoen spoke up, her arms crossed over her chest as she looked at the dark elf pointedly.

"Do not fool yourselves. I don't like the idea anymore than you do but taking into consideration the lack of weapons and armor to defend ourselves you need me as much as I unfortunately need you two." The drow inwardly also thought it unfortunate that she hadn't been able to take her rage out on the bandits immediately following her escape.

Lilliana watched her sister and her new companion cautiously, hoping that Imoen and Viconia's dislike of one another didn't escalate into an argument. "She's right Imoen. I have my conjurations but I'm still little more than an awakened, I have none of the strength of a full fledged dawn bringer and Mistress Viconia may be talented but I'm sure it's not enough if we are attacked by more than a few wolves . . Not without being injured. You only have that dagger that you stole . . .that doesn't leave us very well equipped I'm afraid and we also aren't dressed for combat. We should at least travel with Mistress De'Vir as far as Beregost, then we can try to locate our previous companions."

Smoothing ruffled feathers seemed to be something that Lilliana was good at and Viconia couldn't help the look of admiration that she gave the half high-elf. Despite her obvious naiveté and almost child like need for benevolence she also had some qualities that could make her a great leader someday.

Imoen sighed only once and finally smiled. "All right, no problem, I was just, ya know, thinking that Vicky here wouldn't want to spend more time with us than she needed to." The drow made a snort of anger.

"My name is _not_ Vicky . . .it's Viconia! Vi-cone-ee-uh. Have you grasped it now human?"

The strawberry blonde nodded. "Yeah, yeah, whatever you say Vicky." The priestess of Shar gave a frustrated sigh and Lilliana laughed as the group moved further into the woods, the camp behind them no longer visible.

"You'll have to forgive my sister, she has 'selective hearing.'" The cleric said with a smile and Imoen stuck her tongue out at her.

"No more than you do Lil."

Viconia rolled her eyes . . ._children_ . . .she had been saddled with children as her only companions. _Shar . . .just one question Night Mistress . . . Why me? _Still, they weren't all bad, for surfacers. . .even if that Imoen could irritate the spinnerets off the Spider Queen. The dark elf smiled without realizing it as the two sisters walked ahead of her a pace, Lilliana stopping every few moments to rub her sore bare feet.

* * *

The group of four, one wood elf, two half elves and a human, had made little progress in the way of locating the bandits temporary camp. "I thought you were a ranger?" Jaheira asked of the wood elf.

He nodded. "I am."

She couldn't keep the skeptical note from her voice. "Then why have you not found this camp yet? Some ranger _you _are."

Kivan glared at her and Khalid was going to say something but his wife spoke first. "Sorry . . .I'm just frustrated. Ajantis is right, they could be accosting the girls right this moment!"

Ajantis was surprised at druid agreeing with him about anything. He hadn't spent much time with the group and even less time getting to know the wasp tongued Harper but she seemed too headstrong to agree with anyone, save her husband.

"Your frustration is all well and good but it does nothing to help find your friends." Kivan amended and the look Jaheira gave him was nothing short of stormy.

"They are _not_ my friends, I am their guardian, they are my charges. I made an oath to protect them, an oath to one that _was_ my friend. It's nothing more than that."

Kivan raised an eyebrow but shrugged. "As you say Harper." She had found the wood elf to be annoyingly self assured. He gave advice at the drop of a hat, but took none from anyone else.

It had made her bristle worse when she realized that he was the son of Sartonis Alieradon. At first she hadn't put the names together, until Kivan had mentioned it off handedly when she asked a little about him. He hadn't offered her much in the way of information on himself but she at least knew something of his father.

Sartonis Alieradon had gone on many travels with Gorion Avalon in the sage's younger days and had himself also been a Harper agent until he had devoted himself to the Tel Teukiira, though the wood elf still maintained friendly relationships with the High Harpers. Jaheira knew that after Gorion defected from the Harper's that Sartonis had brought him aid from his new group, led under another former friend, Khelben Arunsun known to most as the legendary Khelben 'Blackstaff'. Jaheira had no doubts that the Tel Teukiira (elven for 'Moonstars') who were based out of Gorion's home city of Waterdeep, had been the ones to help him and Lilliana find residence at Candlekeep.

Khelben himself was much like Gorion, even his reasons for leaving the Harpers were similar. He had thought that the Harpers had become unfocused and no longer had the same goals in life that he did. He had founded the Moonstars with the goal of making an organization similar to the Harpers but more focused and more comfortable. Though his reasons weren't quite as personal as Gorion's. Jaheira remembered back to the time she had first seen little Lilliana at a Harpers compound, only one year old and being carried around on her father's back like he was a pony as she had giggled and cooed with joy . . . _yes_, _much more personal. _

Though Gorion Avalon had had many friends it was probably Sartonis Alieradon that he considered his _best_ friend and Jaheira couldn't help the pang of envy she felt at the easy trust that had always existed between the wood elf and the sage. Both Gorion and Sartonis had lost their wives to childbirth and both of them were fiercely protective of their only child and perhaps it had been that reason that had led to their bond. Sartonis still came by the Harper's Twilight Hall in Berdusk from time to time but the visits were much less frequent and he wasn't as forthcoming with information as he had been when he was a true member.

The druid looked over at Sartonis' son now and though she could see much of him in Kivan's appearance they were nothing alike in temperament. When Kivan was but an elfling he had been a boisterous child, full of life and she wondered what had turned him into the serious introverted elf that walked with them now. Whatever it was obviously drove this obsession to find the bandits they were searching for. When he talked about them a look came into his eyes that almost pained the druid to see and it reminded her of the look in Lilliana's eyes when she brought up her father. That of one that carried a wound so deep that it might never heal.

"We must watch ourselves. Three figures, up ahead." The wood elf whispered. The other three strained to see whatever or whoever his elf eyes had spotted. From far away they looked like nymphs, scantily clad as they were, but when they drew near it became obvious that their coloring was all wrong for nymphs. The almost pink hue of Imoen's strawberry blonde hair was obvious to Khalid and he almost shouted in joy, instead motioning his wife, Ajantis and Kivan forward.

"Lilliana? Imoen?" the paladin called out, curious as to who the third figure could be.

"Sir Ajantis? Is that you?! Oh thank Lathander!" The cleric's voice rang out clear as the sisters took off at a dead run towards their companions. Imoen and Lilliana both clung to Ajantis fiercely and he hugged them back, the happiness on his face was plain to see.

"Bless Helm that you are alright but . . .what on 'Toril are you wearing?" He looked down at them, a flush coming his face to see the young girls so exposed.

"I think our first stop should be to get some clothes, for certain . . . but you are alive!" Lilliana embraced the paladin again, her eyes drifting over to Khalid and Jaheira. She hugged both of them just as tightly as she had Ajantis, Khalid smiling shyly and Jaheira looking as if she wasn't sure how to hug the half high-elf back. "You must tell me how you got out of that mess . . . but first I'd like you to meet Mistress Viconia De'Vir, now I know that. . . "

"DROW!" Ajantis yelled out before the cleric could speak further, pulling his sword from his scabbard when Viconia had come into clear view.

"No!" Lilliana cried, running to stand protectively in front of the Shar priestess. Her eyes looked to Ajantis imploringly. "No! She's a friend, she had been taken captive along with us and if not for her aid we might very well still be prisoners. Her appearance is only that, her _appearance_, would you judge her for that alone?" The paladin looked from Viconia to Lilliana and back.

"You are asking me to trust a _drow_?!" He asked incredulously and Lilliana nodded.

"Yes, yes I am. She could have attacked me and Imoen while we were practically defenseless but she didn't instead she helped in our escape, and has done nothing wrong while we've been in the woods either. Please Lord Ilvastarr, I'm just asking you to give her the chance that you would want others to give you if you were not so easily accepted."

He gave a very audible huff and put his weapon away, eyeing the drow poisonously over Lilliana's black hair. The cleric breathed a sigh of relief, looking at Viconia apologetically.

"You are wearing far less than the last time I saw you but it appears your habit of making improper decisions for yourself remains unchanged. First a war hammer you could never hope to fight with and now you want to travel with one of the forsaken." A familiar voice came from behind the Harpers and Lilliana leaned to see who it was.

Leaning against a tree with a hood concealing most of his face she barely recognized him at first but when she did she rose an eyebrow in confusion. "Master Alieradon? What are you doing here?"

Something that almost sounded like a laugh came from his direction as he stepped closer. "I might ask you the same thing Lilliana. When last I saw you it was inside the relative safety of Candlekeep's walls, but it seems you've a habit of getting into trouble . . . though at least this time _I _didn't have to rescue you from such difficulties."

Lilliana sulked. "You did not _have_ to rescue me the last time either, the watchers would have come to my aid." Though she doubted the sincerity of her own statement she didn't much like the idea of the wood elf making himself look like he had been put upon by saving someone's life.

"Yes, because they were _so_ obviously _prompt_ when arriving at the scene of your attempted homicide." His words were laced with sarcasm and Lilliana narrowed her eyes at him. When she had last saw him and thanked him for saving her life he had absolved himself of some of the unpleasantness of the way he had 'introduced' himself to her in the first place, but it seemed he had gone back into the cynical shell she imagined he hid himself in frequently.

Ajantis looked confused and his next words proved it. "Homicide? Miss Lilliana, you were nearly murdered? How is it that you two know each other then? Master Alieradon saved you?"

The cleric sighed and shook her head. "It's a long story."

Khalid took the whole scene in. "Y-Yes, but p-perhaps one b-best served for s-safer quarters."

Jaheira nodded at his husband. "Correct, we are not in an ideal spot for making conversation . . .or having reunions and producing introductions. If it pleases everyone we should make haste for Beregost."

Lilliana realized her situation and how absurd it would look to an outsider. Imoen, Viconia and herself were barefoot, weaponless and barely dressed, standing in the middle of the forest talking to her companions as if they were all seated comfortably at some tavern. Her pale face took on the pink coloring of a blush and she smiled shyly. "Yes, you are right and I know I'd very much like to get some proper attire on . . .especially boots. Twigs do not feel so good on bare feet."

Imoen seconded that with a resounding "_My_ feet are gonna fall _off_! Let's get to an inn and damn quick!"

Lilliana looked at her sister with wide eyes at her language. "Imoen!" The sprightly red head smiled.

"What? Like _you've_ never said 'damn' before."

Khalid watched the dark elf closely. She had kept silent the entire time, even when Ajantis had nearly attacked her. Now when she finally made herself known vocally she spoke in perfectly articulated common. "I could not agree more. I shall have to hide my appearance from the suspicious town folk, but it is not as if I have not been forced to do such before." The drowess sent a dagger glance Ajantis' way as she went to stand at Lilliana's side.

He was sure that to try and force the drow to leave would illicit an unfavorable response from Gorion's' daughter and as long as this Viconia didn't do anything untoward he didn't see too much harm in it, though a permanent solution must be made if she was to travel with them in the future. Jaheira must have shared that opinion as she said nothing in reply to the drow's words.

Their wood elf companion wasn't nearly as accommodating. "I was already leery of traveling with others, but now that you count a forsaken amongst your own I feel I _must_ take my leave. Besides, I have to find these bandits and if you escaped from them they must be close." Kivan walked over to Lilliana, making a point to not even give a sidelong glance at Viconia, who only glared at him.

"Your friends told me about your father, I'm sorry. I'm glad that you are all right now and I wish you luck on your travels." The cleric looked up at him.

"I apologize for the harshness of my words Master Alieradon, I do after all owe you my life. Please, come with us to Beregost. You can have a meal with us and . . . " Kivan shook his head.

"Your words were no more harsh than mine, but no, I'm sorry, my path lies in a different direction than your own. Fare thee well?"

She smiled sadly. "Fare thee well, and be careful."

Kivan smiled back and the expression was so alien on his face that Jaheira nearly gasped in shock. "I always am . . .Lilliana." They all watched him as he disappeared into the woods.

* * *

Crying and whimpering had never had much of an effect on Aladres Chevres, known to the world as Nimbul the Black Death. The self given name came in three parts. Nimbul for the swiftness of his movements, black for how he blended into shadow and lastly death, for the 'gift' that he brought to his marks. He imagined some of those he had sent to the afterlife called him black because they had cursed him for his black heart. Most of the time that might be true but he felt a measure of pity for those he killed. After all, they never got to experience life the way that Nimbul, an empath since birth, had always seen it.

Every feeling in the world was his for the taking, every scream, every trickle of blood added to the color of the realms. The fear, the anger, the desperation . The emotions flowed from his victims and into him as if they were water.

The muffled sobs from the one he was keeping time with tonight finally became so pathetic he threatened the man that sat across the room, bound to a chair and gagged, that he would cut out his tongue _before_ he killed him. "Now be a good little mouse and wait for the cat to select his claws." The assassin commented.

He quickly unrolled a crimson cloth upon a table, using only a small lantern for illumination. Truth be told he didn't need it all, he just wanted the man to observe the assassin's actions. . .what was in store for him. Nimbul leaned to the left, smiling when he heard the squeak of the wooden chair as his victim strained to see what the professional murderer was doing.

Crimson was a lovely shade, the color of blood and of claret, so alive and vivacious. Nimbul used crimson dye for many of the fabric items he carried. The vast collection of knives he had were wrapped in such a cloth and when he unrolled them in sight of his marks he enjoyed the look on their faces as they wondered if the cloth had been turned that hue by blood . . .but no. Nimbul would never allow anything he had to be dirty.

"Now you see the process of selecting an appropriate blade may seem simple to one such as you. After all _you_ only use them to cut the clothes from the young children that you would force your perverted intentions upon. So the art of a well made blade is lost on you I imagine. However the size, the weight and the curve of each one makes it unique, how the blade is shaped to either cut cleanly or rigidly. I myself prefer clean cuts . . . They allow the blood to remain thin as it trickles over the surrounding skin. Though a rigid blade is good for removing flesh from bone." Nimbul spoke softly and calmly as if he was teaching a class on the subject.

The man he was to execute was not one that many in the town of Beregost would miss much if they knew what he did, but Sarevok wasn't concerned about that when he'd paid Nimbul to take care of him. This man was one of those that the warlord referred to as 'tainted ones' and for reasons that were a mystery to Nimbul his employer seemed to think that killing this waste of life would add to Sarevok's already impressive power. The assassin doubted that he would have been informed of anything beyond that and truth be told he didn't much care.

Explaining away his disappearance outside Candlekeep was as simple as telling Sarevok that he had been injured in the fight and had to attend to his wounds. Sarevok was no simpleton and he might not have believed Nimbul's excuse but it was enough to keep him from asking anymore questions, especially once Nimbul brought up that Rieltar might become privy to his favorite assassin moonlighting for his son if he spent too much time with Sarevok. To smooth feathers Nimbul had offered to take care of Sarevok's next 'special assignment' himself, for a fine payment of course. He had used the money to buy a gift for a very special young lady.

The truth was that the empath had continued to watch Lilliana Avalon and follow her movements as best he could between trips to Baldur's Gate. She was an interesting study already with her glowing aura, but to watch such a person as they experienced the discovery of what they could be capable of was something the assassin had never been able to see much of before. He still wanted _that_ kill for himself but he'd decided he wanted his fruit to ripen a little more.

This mark he taunted now was nothing beyond an added bonus. Nimbul was curious as to how a 'tainted one' might pass on, since Sarevok hinted that it wasn't in the usual fashion. It would be something new to witness and feel. Nimbul took a five notched carving blade from the table and held it in his hand, testing it's weight and sharpness on his palm. His victim's eyes widened and the sobs began anew.

Nimbul stepped closer, the fear radiating off the man in delicious waves. He kneeled down near him and showed him the blade. "What do you think of this one? Wood carvers favor it. I wonder what might happen if I used it to carve your flesh instead." The man tried to fight against his bonds, his face a terrified mask. Nimbul smiled and stood up again, taking the knife back to the table with the others.

He removed a silk scarf from a knapsack he was carrying and inhaled deeply. It had been taken from Lilliana's room before the girl had ever left Candlekeep and the scent of her skin and hair was still heavily imbedded in the fabric. Nimbul's eyes rolled back into his skull in sheer exhilaration at the gentle smell. He sighed deeply and faced his victim, scarf in hand.

"I have a lady you know. She is my main reason for coming here, you are just secondary, for she is headed here and soon I will see her again. Everyone man needs that one 'special someone' don't you think?" He thought back to the children that _this_ man favored and laughed. "Well, perhaps _you_ don't . . . a little too restrictive in numbers for you isn't it?" Nimbul held the soft material against his cheek, his eyes closed as he enjoyed the feeling.

"My lady is fresh and untouched, much like your little playthings only she is more matured than that. She doesn't know that she is my lady but she will. When she is weeping for my mercy as I cut into that pale skin of hers she will know, she will see how devoted I am to her, how my devotion is what drives the blade through her flesh. When she finally passes on, and for the brief perfect moment that our souls are joined, I too will know that she loves me as much as I love her. That is quite romantic I believe . . . Don't you?" He asked the crying man.

"Now though, enough talk, pleasant as it has been. I thank you for the conversation. It seems grand to speak of my lady to another but I'm afraid it's time to earn my coin and I think I've decided . . . A double bladed Luskan dagger. Just the right sharpness and it's a very smooth blade." Nimbul moved over to his victim and leaned close to his face, deciding where he wanted to cut first.

"Your eyes are quite appealing my friend . . . perhaps we will start there." The man screamed against his gag as Nimbul began to work.


	5. Chapter Four: Ashideena

**Disclaimer:**

_"Forgotten Realms: Baldur's Gate" belongs to Bioware, TSR, and Black Isle Studios. Lilliana is mine and situations that you don't recognize from the game are mine, all other material and inspiration for my material is under copyright by the above named. Additional Forgotten Realms material included in this story but not in the game belongs to Wizards of the Coast. Some background information for Viconia De'Vir in this chapter came from R.A. Salvatore's "Homeland" and any characters besides Viconia mentioned in her storytelling are the property of Mr. Salvatore._

_**Words from the Author: **_

_This chapter was a real pain in the butt. It's been edited by myself, then beta read, then editied by my editor and then reviewed one more time by me. There were sections I didn't like but finally it's acceptable. As suggested there is some time spent with Anomen in the first sub section, this is probably going to be a common occurence but I have no intention of taking the 'main character' title away from Lady Avalon and Mistress Voltaire. ;) Enjoy and as always thank you for joining Lilliana on her journey!_

* * *

_**Chapter Four:**_

_**Ashideena**_

* * *

**"T**here is a fire in my household and it comes in the form of a wayward daughter!" The shouts of Lord Tomlinson Dalryan came out of the doorway of the manor home, reaching the ears of the young man that waited on the balcony outside it.

"No father you simply do not want to me to be happy! You would force a betrothal that I do not want upon me!" A female's voice answered back, thick with an Amnian accent.

Lord Anomen Delryn was trying not to eavesdrop but he couldn't help it. He felt like he didn't belong here and while the Lady Irlana was his friend he thought this argument was something that should be kept between family. He had come here to escort Irlana to a play that was being performed that evening and now it seemed that she had been held up in an argument with her father. He had chosen a match for his daughter and wanted her to meet with the young man the day after next. Irlana wasn't agreeable to that.

"Maybe I'll just marry Anomen! Then what would you do . . .father?!" She shouted and Anomen's blue eyes widened.

_Him? Married? That was crazy!_ The twenty two year old Lord of Athkatla had seen how marriages were, how his mother had been so meek under his father and how their marriage had faltered into senseless bickering until his mother's death three years ago. Now it was just him, his fifteen year old sister Moira and their drunkard father. Expunged from the Order to which had once been a member and that of which his son aspired to rise within.

Anomen had been a squire for the Order of the Most Radiant Heart for nearly twelve years now, also having served under the Church of Helm as a cleric and it had left little time for any kind of relationships. If not for the Order he would likely not even have any friends.

Lady Irlana served the Order as an initiate shield maiden and had made fast friends with Lord Anomen, laughing at how similar their family names were. They had both been raised together in the upper class Canfield Court (known more commonly as the Government District) of the city of Athkatla and could find comfort in their similarities . . .though even if Irlana's father was prone to bouts of tyrannical behavior at least he wasn't a drunk. Anomen grimaced as the shouting from within Dalryan manor began anew.

City lights, little more than glowing lanterns, looked like little fluttering insects at night, their glow providing a pale comparison to the stars in the open sky with a full moon shining down on Athkatla. Anomen watched the metropolis, the smell from the Docks District reaching to the city's limits. The water beyond Athkatla looked like dark ink and seemed to stretch on forever. The sounds could seem overwhelming if one listened all at once…the barking of dogs, the yowling of cats, children playing, adults yelling. Another shout from behind him made him flinch and he thought of anything he could to drown it out. In his times of solitude there was one contemplation that had remained prevalent for many years and he smiled at it's remembrance.

_"Are you any good at catching cats Lord Delryn?" The girl has asked, her beautiful emerald eyes nearly drowning him, causing him to stutter in his speech. _

_"Well . . .I . . I . . I could try to retrieve this animal for you milady." She had batted her eyelashes at him and his heart had jumped up into his throat. _

_"I'd like that very much." She'd told him with a dazzling smile._

That had been eight years past now and only a memory, but seemed as clear as the day it had happened. He still had the book she'd inspired him to get, the last book his mother had ever bought him. Within it's bindings was the half high-elf's braid of silken black hair that she'd gifted him and when no one was around he took it out to touch it, still soft and fine.

_What did she look like now that she was grown? Was she as beautiful as he had thought she would be? How tall was she? Did those green eyes still look as breathtaking as he had remembered? Had she become a dawn mistress of Lathander yet? How good was she? Was she still at Candlekeep with her sister or was she married? _

Anomen wrinkled his face at that last one, not dwelling on the unpleasant thought. She would be twenty years old now and it had been so long since he had seen her. "Lady Lilliana Avalon." The young lord spoke out softly, marveling at how smooth her name remained, how it flowed over his tongue like velvet brandy.

These were childish reflections, he knew that. She had only been twelve and he had been fourteen. It was nothing more than the summer infatuation of two children experiencing their first crush, but he couldn't help but wonder about her and no matter how sour his mood the memory of that summer spent away from home lifted his spirits. His stomach still tied itself in knots, even after all that time, whenever he remembered his first kiss, shared with that girl on one of the spires of Candlekeep. Irlana called out to him and broke his thoughts.

"Let's go before he summons Cadril over this very night!" The tall blonde grabbed her friend's hand and dragged him down the stairs and past the courtyard of her home, her father's voice loud and angry behind the friends.

"It's _Cadril_ he would have you wed to?!" Anomen _hated_ Cadril, he was a pompous oaf who thought the fact that his family was quite possibly the oldest line of nobility in Athkatla made him better than everyone. He was a newly named knight of the Order and didn't hesitate to hang that fact over Anomen's head whenever he could. Irlana got along with him far better but apparently not enough to want to marry him.

"Yes, come on, hurry up. We'll be late!"

Anomen felt the sting of anger still that his friend would be married to that cad. A funny thought struck him and he laughed. _Cadril the Cad_. Irlana looked at him curiously.

"What is so funny Anomen?"

He shook his head, now crowned with neat chocolate hued locks, cut short as the Order required. His mother would be happy that his hair had finally decided to quit being so unruly. "Oh nothing Irlana, just musings. You didn't really mean to suggest that _you_ and _I_ marry did you?"

Her blue eyes, nearly identical to his own, looked miffed. "You heard that?"

Anomen tried not to laugh but his face was still amused. "Irlana, half of Athkatla probably _heard that_."

She shrugged. "It's not a _bad_ idea. It would keep Cadril away from me and you would no longer have to fight off the advances of the ladies at court."

"_What_ ladies?" The squire asked, not sure what his friend meant. He had been far too busy to notice anyone. In fact Irlana and his sister Moira were the only females he spent much time with.

Irlana giggled. "Really Anomen, are you so oblivious to how you are viewed by the courtiers? Would that they could garner your attention away from your duties." Her eyes were amused as she watched her friend mull that over.

She wanted to tell him that she had grown close to him, that while she did find Cadril attractive that he did not hold a candle to Anomen. Long had they been friends, and she knew she was the only female companion that the warrior priest had. She valued that he took time away from his schedule to take her out for moments of enjoyment but her heart ached at the thought that he would never see in her more than friendship. Was it enough to be his friend and not ask for more? The sigh she expunged he mistook for frustration.

"Yes I know, we must hurry or we'll be late. You need not remind me again." His wide grin belied any ruffled reaction and Irlana couldn't help but smile in kind.

"Lead the way Lord Delryn." They passed down the street arm in arm and Irlana took comfort in that but she knew if she were to try and take his hand that he would look at her questioningly and then she'd die of embarrassment.

"He will have his way you know, Lord Dalryan, he would see you wed to Cadril and I doubt he'll give up on it." Anomen remarked and Irlana nodded.

"Yes I know . . .Cadril isn't _that_ awful . . .maybe I should consider it." The blonde remarked, hoping to see at least a spark of jealousy in her friend's eyes, but only a simmering disregard was there.

"You always did get along with him better than anyone else at the Order, of course you are a lady, so even one such as him might treat you better than a male member."

Irlana jerked away from Anomen. "You . . You do not disagree that maybe I should marry Cadril?"

Anomen was not sure why Irlana looked so hurt by that. "I do not care for Cadril, but if _you_ do and since your father thinks it is a good match, I see no reason why you shouldn't." The young squire explained, trying to keep his voice gentle. When Irlana dropped her head began to cry he wasn't sure what to do. Women had a habit of crying over a great deal of things and Anomen found himself never quite sure as to the reasoning behind it. "Lady Irlana?" He placed a hand on her shoulder and her face rose to meet his.

"Oh Anomen, don't you see? It is _you_ I care for, _you_ that I want to marry. Have you never even noticed? I would call you friend but if my wish were to be made reality than it is _you_ that I would want to court me. Cadril is . . .well he's handsome, charming and strong but . . .he's not you!" Irlana wiped at her face, trying to compose herself, looking up at Anomen to find his façade one of confusion and shock.

"Why have you never said anything before now?" His mind was reeling at her startling revelation.

Irlana sniffed. "I'm sorry, I just didn't know how to say it. I . . I cannot attend this play tonight. Not now! I must go!" The tall blonde picked up her skirts and ran, hot tears making their way down her face. Anomen called out to her but she did not respond, running until she was well out of sight.

_Should I go after her? Should I give her time alone?_ Anomen didn't know and he leaned against a lantern post in thought. Irlana had been the only female he would call friend and he had thought it was nice that she didn't behave the way most of the noble ladies in Athkatla did but maybe while being her friend he had forgotten that she was, first and foremost, a lady. He would have never expected her to feel that way and how could he when she had never made her feelings known? Anomen sighed deeply, raking a hand through his hair.

He would go call upon her tomorrow and tell her . . ._what?_ Irlana was still his friend and he didn't want to hurt her, but if he could be sure of one thing it was his own feelings. The caring was there but not the love, not the love that would make him feel as if he wanted to always be by Irlana's side as her husband.

Love was rarely necessary in most noble betrothals but Anomen thought it _should_ be and for a friend he would have her settle for nothing less than that, not if he could help it. He would go to Irlana tomorrow and tell her that he would always love her as a dear friend but that to say his feelings were more than that was untrue. Anomen only hoped she wouldn't decide to end their friendship over it.

* * *

With all her supplies gone, Lilliana not only had to purchase new attire, but new weaponry as well. Having an iron weapon would have been far more affordable but Taerom Fuirum, the barrel-chested owner and smithy of Thunderhammer's, had been honest enough to tell them that due to the iron shortage and the crumbling quality of what he had they would be best served by buying either a silver or enchanted weapon. Silver turned out to be more within their price range though Lilliana had still flinched at the four hundred gold piece price tag on her new war hammer. It had taken a big gouge out of the group's finances. It couldn't be helped though; in much the same manner as hiding Viconia's true appearance in town couldn't be helped. The dark elf had to be well hidden behind a deep cloak and even then she seemed wary.

The half high-elf felt a great amount of sympathy for the drow. It was not fair that she could not even walk the streets of the surface freely simply because of what she was. Days where race wasn't viewed as something of great importance were now little more than stories. Lilliana remembered a book her father had bought her the first time she'd been to Beregost, about the history of Myth Drannor, an ancient high elven empire, and how racial tolerance had been a beautiful thing there. Drannor had once been known as the city of Cormanthor before the days of the Mythal, a powerful magical device that protected the city from harm.

The ruler of Cormanthor, Coronal Eltagrim, felt that his people and his city were decaying. After meeting Elminster the Wise, he realized that the best way to harbor peace between the high elves of Cormanthor and the race of humans, and also prevent his society's decay, was to allow the younger race to take quarter in the city. The first of many half high-elf and half human children were born in the renamed Myth Drannor, the name an encompassed title born from the minds of humans and elves alike.

Drannor had always held a beautiful magic, even after it's ruination, and this natural magical atmosphere helped to keep the peace for many a decade. The Mythal kept the city safe and it wasn't until the attacks by the combined armies of the three nycaloths, fiends from the Blood Rift, that Myth Drannor was destroyed and the peace it's inhabitants had found together lost. How horrible, Lilliana thought, that no one had yet to recreate that tolerance, love and equality elsewhere.

The Lathanite cleric wasn't unaware of the self destructive and evil nature of most of the dark elves, perpetuated by their devotion to a self serving goddess, but if Viconia and those few others of her kind had left their Underdark homeland than what was to say that the dark elf race was unable to change? If not for the fearful, intolerant and oft times cruel reactions those few escapees encountered on the surface perhaps more of them would have resurfaced to a world that accepted their changed perceptions. If Drizzt Do'Urden, most famed of the dark elf race, had not become such a legendary figure he would undoubtedly find himself in situations far similar to Viconia De'Vir . . .maybe he still did.

Once they had gotten their supplies and purchased rooms for themselves at Feldepost's Inn, Jaheira and Khalid had retired early together and the looks they gave each other over their dinner made Lilliana blush at the obvious reasoning for their departure to their room. Imoen was giggling and Viconia wondered aloud why the two girls found it so amusing and embarrassing that the half breed male was finally attending his half breed female. She suggested the druid's sniping tones might be lessened after she was properly serviced, which earned a gaping look from Lilliana and Imoen alike.

Ajantis had gone straight to his room. The dark glances he gave the Shar priestess did not go unnoticed by her or Lilliana and the cleric hoped she could keep the peace between them. It was a wonder, she had to admit, that the drow had stayed with them after they reached Beregost. However, she didn't dare ask Viconia about her motives for fear that the drow female would feel insulted about the question and leave the group's company. Lilliana was glad for the rare opportunity being given her and despite their many differences she was hoping to not only learn more about the dark elves but perhaps teach Viconia the good side of those that resided on the surface as well.

Imoen wasn't fond of the idea but even _she_ was curious about the dark elf's life and her escape. With her sister's words at the camp easily remembered she'd kept her tongue held when she feared that she was about to say something nasty. The human couldn't help the surprise that she felt when holding such silence seemed to give the drow priestess room to talk, and when in the safety of their room, talk she did.

To Lilliana it seemed a natural choice to bunk with both Imoen and Viconia and her sister didn't object too strongly. Lilliana imagined that Imoen might have felt safer with the drow in close quarters where she could keep an eye on her rather than leaving the priestess on her own in a solitary room. The half high-elf wished that wasn't the case, but her sister's nature was her own, as was Viconia's, and she could do naught but be as accommodating with both of them as much as she could.

In the confines of the small suite the three females talked long into the night, and it seemed that with the falling of the sun that Viconia felt much more comfortable and even in light of the glaring difference between herself and Lilliana, the cleric was happy that her new companion had found some measure of peace. Though she had seemed largely unaffected by her kidnapping by the bandits, but Lilliana wasn't a fool, and she imagined that it was due to the secret hopes of vengeance that the drow was holding in her subconscious. There were many things hidden there and Lilliana was surprised the priestess chose to share the tale of her flight to the surface with them, though the cleric imagined she had left many things out.

The light from the few candles Lilliana had lit cast shadows about the room. The flickering orange flames created the illusion of dancing shapes over the silk printed flowers of their room. Imoen had curled up on her bed, a mug of hot spiced tea in her small hands as she listened. Lilliana was sewing the symbol of Lathander onto a new cloak with the thread and needle she had talked Jaheira into purchasing. Her slender fingers moved the needle through the fabric with grace and a practice that didn't require her to look at her work that often, leaving her free to listen to Viconia's words. The drow herself was perched in a lounger; taking bites from an apple between sentences, her accented common creating a surprisingly gentle feeling in the two girls from Candlekeep that were both giving Viconia their interested attention.

"You two have never seen the Underdark, and so despite anything I describe, you could never _truly_ hope to accurately imagine such a place. It isn't without its own environmental attractions, though I imagine a surfacer would find it quite a frightening and silent beauty. The hush never affected me when I was buried within it but now, here on the surface where no day passes without noise, it would seem that it was a deep silence, perhaps looking back it was even . . .overbearing. Weaving caverns, hiding all manner of deadly creature, lead to caverns both smaller than my body and those so large they seemed nearly endless with spires of stone reaching to the rough ceilings of rock like the legs of Lolth herself. There is no daylight to mark the hours there and only by the marks of Narbondel were the inhabitants of my city, Menzoberranzan, able to decipher the passage of the days."

She took a bite from the apple, moving an ebony hand across her lip to wipe away escaped juice. Lilliana and Imoen had both read about the history of the dark elves and they were familiar with Menzoberranzan through the tales of Drizzt Do'Urden from his published biography "Tales from the Darkness" though Lilliana doubted that the drow had written it himself. As busy as the unique hero was she didn't imagine he would have had the time. As for 'Narbondel' they were clueless.

"What is this Narbondel you would speak of Mistress De'Vir?" The half high-elf asked, taking her eyes away from their storyteller to weave a circular stitch on her cloak.

"A giant stalagmite reaching nearly to the top of the thousand foot high ceiling of Menzoberranzan, glowing in time with the passage of the hours; an enchantment of the wizards of Sorcere, a place _you_ might call a school of magic. My kin shaped it to their desires of perfection, as much as anything within my former home. Perfection is not only attainable to the drow, it is _required_; to be anything less is to be looked upon with much disfavor in eyes of Lolth. Menzoberranzan is the greatest jewel of the Underdark, though cities such as Ust Natha might argue a different description, and the perfection of my city could not and cannot be challenged."

She raised an ivory brow sardonically at something only she could fathom and continued. "I would be the highest ranking priestess of my house now, had the infidels of House Do'Urden not eradicated most of my family. I am the first born daughter of my house and I would perhaps even be Matron . . .but no. Instead I am here, talking to you two.

Lolth lost my devotion from the moment she decided to favor the Do'Urden House over the brilliance of House De'Vir . . .they were such a lesser house . . .it burns my veins with anger at the disgusting thought that it was debased kinsmen that destroyed nearly all of House De'Vir! All because my matron chose to enlist the _aid_ of deurgar, gray dwarves, in the elimination of a rival. Lolth cast my house and my family into disfavor then and we became an open target for just about anyone with enough ambition. Had I stayed I would have found no quarter there, for justice is an illusion and the dark elves care nothing for it but I . . .I would see every last member of House Do'Urden skewered on a pole!" She smiled at this, turning to regard Lilliana closely.

"However I read a most interesting book at the store they have here. To think that House Do'Urden was left to it's own demise pleases me though their last son still roams free. I'm quite glad that us noble females of Menzoberranzan are taught to read many languages, otherwise I might have missed such an enjoying tale."

Imoen and Lilliana exchanged a look and the half high-elf spoke her next words cautiously. "Umm, the tales of Drizzt Do'Urden you mean?"

Viconia got up from the lounger so swiftly it made the sisters jump. "Do _not_ mention that _Iblith_ within my presence! It was his birth, on the eve of Matron De'Vir's fall that gave Matron Malice the strength to destroy my family! A House holding only the place of _tenth_, defeating the greatness of the _fourth_ house of Menzoberranzan! Sickening! If Drizzt had been still born or better yet, had never been conceived, Malice would not have succeeded. If it takes me forever I shall see the last son of House Do'Urden dead and then perhaps my blood can rest easy and I, last daughter of House De'Vir will know…peace."

She sat back down, resuming the consumption of her apple, now with little left except the core. "Lolth does not know justice, but Shar does, Shar does _indeed_. Would that I had discovered her guidance earlier in life. Perhaps she would have given me the strength to bury my rivals under a pile of their own filth before I was forced to come to the surface to escape my own assassination. Though I was not the only survivor that eve and I wonder now about my brother, for a male he had much potential, he could have become the Archmage of Sorcere had he pushed himself harder, had Lolth not betrayed us in favor of that bitch Malice! Alton was attending his studies at Sorcere when House De'Vir fell but still, I doubt his continued survival. For lesser kin the soldiers of House Do'Urden were sufficient in their attack.

Their weapons master took the tongue of Matron Mother Ginafae, _my _mother. I watched as I pretended to be dead. Feeling my lifeblood leaving me, attacked by the same male that took the lives of my only sister and of Matron Ginafae. Zaknafein Do'Urden, oblivious to the last. Many did not know his face, but I did. He would curry the favor of Matron Malice, whimpering at her side like a whipped slave, even as he wished in secret for the end of her life. He never noticed as I crawled away, drinking a potion to cure myself. . ."

She would have said more but it was as if something struck her memory with fierceness and her face, calm during most of the retelling of her history, took on a twisted look of pain and Lilliana wanted to tell Viconia how sorry she was, but she was sure that the dark elf would not want to hear such 'weak' words.

"I . . I would speak no more this night. I must rest." Viconia threw the remains of her apple in a small bucket placed in the room for such a purpose and went to her own bed.

Lilliana amended then and there that she would give Viconia something she doubted the dark elf had ever had . . .a friend. The cleric imagined it was a lack of such compassion that fueled Viconia's thoughts of revenge and it seemed that no one gave her any chance to change herself for the better, but Lilliana would. The half high-elf smiled as she put her sewing aside and blew out the candles . . . _I will._

* * *

Morning brought with it disappointment. Gorion had not come to Lilliana that night in her dreams. He had said that he would try but he hadn't guaranteed it, still it had carried Lilliana through the arduous journey to Beregost that she might see him again when she slept; but he hadn't come to visit her slumbering mind when she had been knocked unconscious by the bandits and hadn't come to see her last night either. Was it nothing more than a dream after all? Now she thought back to when she had tried to heal Imoen's injuries with the 'gift' she was told she had been given. Perhaps it had only been a simple conjuration and Lilliana's mind had made it appear to me something else. Had her 'vision' simply taken on the characteristics of what _she_ wanted to see? . . .but why would she wish to see herself as some sort of holy weapon?

When the hulking armored knight had driven his vile sword into her father's chest she had wanted nothing more than to kill him, but now she realized that such a thing wouldn't make her feel better . ..only justice would achieve that. Gorion had taught Lilliana well about the difference between justice and revenge and they did _not_ dwell in the same house. She still wanted to find her father's murderer but she would do all she could to bring him to a _proper_ justice, not that of a personal vendetta.

A frown marred her fine features as she sat up, pushing the covers away from her thin legs. She looked down at them thinking about her own form for the first time in awhile. The half high-elf realized she was much too thin, even for one of half elven heritage, and if she hoped to be a boon to her companions she should try to work on her figure. _But how?_

She was surprisingly the only one in the room. Neither Imoen's or Viconia's things were out on their beds either. _How late did I sleep? Most unusual._ Lilliana thought as she walked over to closet. When she opened it a tumble of clothes came falling down at her and the half high-elf shook her head. _Imoen_.

Her sister had never been the tidiest person in the world and the quarters the young girl had kept at Candlekeep were always a disaster area. The only time she'd ever willingly cleaned it was when she had a boy she fancied and had wanted to invite him to her room. Lilliana remembered such moments with a smile on her face as she started to sort her sister's thing into the closet neatly.

Imoen had been sixteen when there was a new acolyte that had come to Candlekeep to study as a monk, something that required him to stay well away from romantic entanglements, but Imoen cared nothing for that. He was her first real crush and she made sure that the eighteen year old boy knew it. They had sent each other little notes while in the library and one night Imoen had decided to invite him to her room . . . _what was his name? Oh yes . . .Shistal._ Lilliana mused, finally placing a name to the face.

Neither her nor Imoen had seen the young monk after that night and it was no wonder. Winthrop had found out about Imoen's rendezvous and dragged the boy out of his daughter's room by his ear and brought him to his master. Tethtoril had threatened the young man with expulsion if he didn't stay away from Imoen when he found out. Imoen herself had been placed in Reevor's care for a month. Killing rats, cleaning the boxes, sorting them by name, and replacing the wheels for carts had convinced her to never try anything like that again.

Lastly a dusty pink cloak was set on a wooden hanger and the memory faded away as Lilliana finally began to pick out her attire for the morning. She wished she had enough time last night to finish embroidering her cloak but she would just have to put that aside for later. The half-high elf got dressed in silence and was about to head out when she noticed a slip of folded light yellow parchment on the floor just inside the door. She bent down to pick it up and opened it, reading it to herself.

_**Lady Avalon,**_

_**It has come to my attention that you are in need of a weapons trainer. I have taken into account the suitability of your guardians but have come to the conclusion that you would be best served by one who understands your particular taste for heavier weaponry.**_

_**If it so pleases you I would like to begin lessons this morning…after you've gotten something to eat of course. I also request that you arrive with your armor, because your movements in live combat will be **__**in**__** that armor. Meet me at the eighth hour of this morning on the lawn behind Feldepost's.**_

_**Thank you my lady.**_

_**Regards,**_

_**Your Trainer to Be,**_

_**Lord Ilvastarr.**_

_**PS: Don't forget your hammer.**_

Lilliana smiled widely, setting the note down on a desk and hurried back to the closet to get her weapons and armor. Ajantis might have been displeased with the addition of Viconia but it seemed that it hadn't changed his cordial demeanor towards Lilliana. Perhaps in time she could get the paladin to accept the differences of the Shar priestess but for now the cleric would simply take enjoyment from the man's company.

She hurried out the door and down the stairs of Feldepost's only greeting her companions in the common room with a quick wave and "Fare thee well" as she bounded out of the inn's main doors and into bright morning sunlight. Lilliana wasn't aware of what hour it currently was and she hoped she wasn't late. A dark figure watched from the alleyway across the street, taking enjoyment from her lithe youthful run across the lawn, but Lilliana didn't notice him.

Ajantis sat on a rather uncomfortable looking tree stump when Lilliana spotted him. He had worn his armaments for as long as she had known him, and it seemed an odd sight indeed for him to be wearing only a simple tunic and breeches. Spring sunlight made his dark blonde hair shine like rows of freshly harvested wheat. His brown eyes looked up to see the approaching cleric and his face lit up into a welcoming smile. "Lady Lilliana, I thank you for joining me."

Lilliana nodded, looking over at the odd structure that sat eight feet away from them. It looked like thin wood that had been shaped into some kind of monster, propped up with a large stick behind it. Ajantis had drawn a silly grin on it and Lilliana giggled at it, bringing an uncharacteristic blush to the young paladin's face.

"I thought you might like an actual physical target for your swings and though I'm sure Mistress Kostas would suggest that I'm thick headed enough to provide an appropriate bulls eye for your strikes, I think I'd like to be coherent for your training." Ajantis laughed, rising from his spot. "First let me see how you raise your weapon."

Lilliana brought the war hammer to the fore, still having some difficulty raising it. Both hands were grasped tightly near the head of the weapon and she looked over at Ajantis to find him shaking his head. "No no, holding it that way is all wrong. You want your hands spaced far enough apart to give it a balanced swing and I also think that you'll find doing so will make the hammer easier to lift. Here . . . like this." His own large hands moved atop Lilliana's much smaller ones and he slid her hands apart evenly with one near the head and the other near the base of the handle. The paladin stepped back, motioning her to try a swing.

The war hammer created a whooshing noise in the displaced air but the movement still seemed unwieldy. Ajantis pursed his lips in thought. "Hmm, maybe it's your stance that is off. Do you mind?" He asked, receiving a shake of Lilliana's braided head.

His six feet and two inches of height towered over the half high-elf's mere five feet and three inches but when he placed a hand at her back and another at her hip it didn't seem to hamper him. Together they found what he deemed the perfect position.

"Okay now try." The swing this time was much better but Lilliana seemed as unsure of her _weapon_ as she was unsure of _herself_.

Hoping that his trainee would improve with more swings he set her loose on the target he had constructed earlier this morning. Every time she missed, once coming close but still falling shy of the wooden 'monster'. Ajantis had her take a running start, and he marveled at how graceful her steps were . . .until she swung her war hammer, then all of her natural grace seemed to leave her. Now as he watched her try again, the girl laughing apologetically at her failure and promised that she _would _get it. He thought he had finally discovered the problem.

"You are thinking of the war hammer as a weapon, when it would better serve you to think of it an extension of yourself. It explains why you are overcompensating."

Lilliana was growing more agitated by the minute, angry at her own failure. "I'm not overcompensating, I'm merely trying to keep from falling over!" She shouted, stumbling over her own feet as she attempted to swing the war hammer down on the wooden target, missing it by a wide margin and almost landing on her face. "In hindsight I think choosing a weapon because I thought it was pretty was . . . stupid." She sighed, hands resting on her knees to give her time to catch her breath. When she picked up the war hammer again she saw that Ajantis was laughing.

"Is that why you chose to fight with a war hammer?" He was chuckling and Lilliana couldn't help but laugh with him. "Why on Toril did you decide to keep using it once you realized it was so heavy?" He asked and his trainee smiled shyly, her voice nearly breathless after the long work out, and he had to strain his ears to hear her.

"Because I made a decision and no matter the reason I have to follow through. My father once told me that nothing is impossible except what we _allow _to be impossible." Ajantis more than half wondered if she was still talking about a war hammer.

"I see, your father sounds like he was a very wise man. You know what I'm thinking? We don't have enough coin for another weapon . . . yet . . . but I'm wondering if carrying two war hammers would not suit you better." The paladin commented expecting Lilliana to laugh at such a suggestion. She'd been more than willing to become frustrated and laugh at herself all morning.

She looked off into the distance at his words, almost a look of shock in her emerald eyes instead. "T-Two war hammers?" She stuttered out, barely above a whisper and the paladin couldn't help but wonder what had caused the sudden change in attitude.

"Yes, they could help balance you out. With _your_ build having an even weight in each hand as opposed to lifting the weight of one could be beneficial for you. Of course we are going to have work on some strength training to bulk up your arms. I don't know much about how half-elves tone themselves but it shouldn't be too difficult I wouldn't imagine."

Lilliana remembered the vision she was shown of herself, striding with _two_ war hammers in hand. The dream of her father had insisted that it really was her but she couldn't believe it. Then Ajantis words hit her like a bucket of ice water. The healing gift she had been given had also come into fruition and now coupled with the paladin's suggestion it seemed that nothing about her 'dream' was a dream at all. Maybe she should change her mind about her thoughts from earlier that morning. She shook herself from her reverie and grinned up at her trainer.

"Then I'll just be weighted down on each side and unable to move." Ajantis seemed relieved that whatever odd change in mood had struck her was brief.

"That is where the strength training will come in. At least now you can lift the one hammer off the ground without too much fuss, it's just that striking blow of yours we need to work on. Now let's try it again, remember, the weapon is an extension of you. Think of it as . . .a really long arm."

Lilliana repeated her trainer's instructions in her head, trying not to laugh at the image his words conjured. _A really long arm. An extension of myself. Okay. Really long arm. _She ran to give herself momentum as Ajantis had shown her and raised the war hammer up off the ground, feeling the muscles in her upper arms straining with the effort. Lilliana's was beginning to feel the weight of her weapon.

She swung her arms, hands gripping opposite ends of the handle, and pushed out as if she had no war hammer at all, making a wide arc as she shut her eyes, almost afraid to see herself fail again. The loud sound of splintering wood made her open her eyes. Ajantis was smiling proudly ear to ear. The prop enemy he had hastily constructed for his trainee was missing it's head, now broken in pieces on the grass. Only the goofy grin the paladin had drawn on it's face with mud was still recognizable.

"Excellent! That's the spirit! Let's try it again!" Her trainer beamed as he spoke. Lilliana laughed happily this time and dropped the war hammer, jumping against Ajantis' tall frame, hugging him and kissing him on the cheeks.

"Oh thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you!" She kissed his left cheek once more for good measure and went back to her war hammer.

Ajantis' face was beet red in embarrassment at her reaction. None of the young men he had trained with in his earliest days at the Order had ever done _that_ when they succeeded. Then again they weren't young ladies raised in a library. "Ah . . . uh . . .no problem, but we aren't done yet." He managed to get out and Lilliana nodded.

* * *

An onyx obelisk sat in the middle of Beregost, having been there since the town's construction, and it caught the afternoon sun, glinting it down on the sweating town crier. He would have spouted news about an approaching war with the nation of Amn but the mayor had insisted he repeat an unclaimed bounty instead. Just as he had every morning for the past week. A thick water skin sat as his feet, nearly half empty already and he felt his voice crack as he began anew.

"Hear ye! Hear ye! A notice has gone out from his Most Radiant Morning Lord of Lathander, Mayor Keldath Ormlyr, for the collection of the madman Bassilus! Foul worshipper of the Black Cyric! Five thousand gold pieces to whosoever captures this abomination! Hear ye! Hear ye!" He repeated until he had drawn a large crowd, unaware that in that crowd was a young girl whose heart had been reached by the name of the god that she would call her own.

"Did you hear that?!" Lilliana whispered excitedly to the tall paladin that stood beside her.

"Indeed. Five thousand gold pieces seems a very high sum for a simple bounty, and I wonder why it is so high. The crier did not supply the citizenry with much information about this Bassilus." Ajantis remarked, earning a look from an elderly man that was in the crowd of listeners.

"Maybe that's cause we already know, boy. I can guess that you ain't from Beregost. So maybe ya haven't heard about Bassilus. Deranged he be, driven mad by Cyric his-self. He be goin around killin anyone that be comin too near. Raises their bodies up he does! Then forces their undead souls into servitude for his own twisted purpose. We've lost many a citizen and might be you go loosing _yourself_ if ya be wanderin' too far a field."

Lilliana made a wretched face at the man's words . . . _undead_. The most foul of creatures in the eyes of Lathander; it was no wonder one of His morning lords held the bounty for this cleric's capture.

"How do you know so much about this Bassilus sir, if he is yet on the loose?" Ajantis asked and the old man once again gave him a rotten look.

"I done seen him meself. Barely made it back alive I did! I nay be leavin town again till he's swinging lengthwise from a short rope on a high platform."

Ajantis scoffed at that. "You did nothing then but flee? Did you not even report his location to the authorities?" The old man spit on the ground angrily.

"I ain't no spring chicken boy! Unlike you, and I gots to be watchin out for me own hide. I did tell Master Ormlyr though, aye, just a week ago, and every morning since the crier be shoutin out the bounty, but none be brave enough to take it, not even the young. Must be an _army_ of walkin' corpses he gots by now and don't no one want to be getting in that mess! Good 'ole Keldath keeps raisin the bounty, but it still ain't enough for anyone around here to be riskin their life for. Maybe _you'd _like to give it a go. It would put some scars on that baby face 'o yours." The elderly man walked away from the pair as the town crier repeated his words once again.

Lilliana and Ajantis looked each other. "Are you thinking what I am thinking?" The half high-elf asked and Ajantis nodded.

"If you are thinking that we should go see the mayor, then yes, I am thinking what you are thinking." He smiled when Lilliana nodded.

"Let's go then my lord."

* * *

She had been eight years old when she had first seen the temple at Beregost, dedicated to Lathander, and in her memory it didn't seem half as grand as it did now. Ornate glass work reflecting the brilliance of the sunlight covered the structure, made mostly of an ivory marble, winding maroon and gold inlay on the pillars of it's face. Lilliana placed a hand over her heart as her footfalls landed on the tiles of the exterior entry hall. Gilded double doors, beset with maroon stained glass and elaborate gold engravings, sat in the perfect center of the eastern wall of the large temple.

"The Temple of the Morning Song." She spoke out loud, completely oblivious to the attention Ajantis was paying her. Never had he seen someone look so enamored of a place of worship, not even the Watchers Over The Fallen, Helm's own clerics of the highest favor.

Helm had also been a more serious god whereas Lathander was more prone to frivolity and yet Ajantis had never seen one of the faithful as entranced by Helm as this small, frail half high-elf that he now walked with was of Lathander. Lilliana almost had the look of one in love.

Ajantis thought about how he got along with the half high-elf and he found that when he examined it that it was truly an odd thing. She was a cleric of Lathander, a god that Helm, the deity that held Ajantis' worship, had long begrudged since the Dawn Cataclysm (a divine purge caused by Lathander) in which Helm's great love, the lesser goddess of pragmatism, Murdane was killed. The two gods might not get along but their faithful had found an easy friendship together. Her willingness to take the drow in bothered him, but he didn't blame Lilliana for she was still young, impetuous and had much to learn.

A beautiful song, female and soft, greeted the pair as they entered the temple. More of the decorative architecture displayed outside was found within the building. The high domed roof let the rays of sun through to create a shimmering pattern on the ivory tiles, polished to perfection. In the center of the main room was a massive statue of Lathander himself, his handsome likeness eerily realistic as he held the sun lovingly in his grasp, raising it to a high dome as his long cloak flowed out behind him.

Four Irasederes, blue skinned and blue haired ethereal sirens in the service of Lathander's House of Nature, held positions around the statue of the one they served and it was they whose singing Ajantis and Lilliana had heard upon entering. Their voices sounded out now in clear dulcet tones. One of them turned, looking upon the half high-elf with it's golden eyes.

Lilliana gasped at Ajantis side and he could almost swear that she was beginning to cry. "I had forgotten how beautiful it was here. Words cannot describe my feelings . . . to be in _such_ a place." Her speech was whispery quiet and she seemed deep within her own personal reverie until a male's voice called out to her.

"Welcome milord, milady, to the Temple of the Morning Song. Were I able to have one of our dawn masters greet you properly I would, but they have joined together in a Circle of Light to try and discern the location of someone most vile. I am morning lord Keldath Ormlyr, also the mayor of our fair town of Beregost. What might the servants of His Most Brilliant Lathander do for you this day?"

A tall man of perhaps fifty or more years approached the pair, his silver streaked brown hair cut short above the high collar of his golden priest's robes. A staff of pristine design was clasped in his left hand and he carried it with the air of a nobleman. Vivid hazel eyes looked from behind thick glasses that would have been better suited on a gnomish scholar. Ajantis bowed as Lilliana kneeled on the floor in reverence.

"Your eminence Ormlyr. This is Lord Ajantis Ilvastarr, faithful paladin to Helm, and I am Lady Lilliana Avalon, humbled awakened of Lathander."

The robed man nodded his head in greeting to Ajantis but when he turned to Lilliana he looked quite pleased. Ajantis figured he knew who would be the focus of their conversation with the morning lord today.

"Ah, Lady Avalon, your fine countenance I have seen before, though many years past. Here with your father then it was. The seedling has grown into quite a lovely flower in Our Lord's basking sun. Please stand." Lilliana arose at his request. "We of the Servants of the Light are pleased to count you among our ranks . . Though only awakened? How many years hast thou served?"

Ajantis rolled his eyes at Keldath's words. Priests were very good at snubbing insinuations and open salute at the same time.

"Eight years in the official servitude of My Lord, your eminence." Lilliana replied and Keldath raised a brow.

"Eight _years_ you say? Perhaps you could raise yourself in Lathander's eyes by a show of good will for the Temple of the Morning Song. This temple also looks on those who would aid the realms under Lathander's blessing favorably and we could sponsor you if you decided to serve His Most Radiant in such a capacity. I myself am in need of more dawn mistresses. There is an evil cleric that has been terrorizing this fine town, perhaps . . . " The morning lord trailed off and placed a hand around Lilliana's shoulders as if he had known the girl forever and she did naught but smile gracefully.

"We have come here for just that purpose your eminence. Lord Ilvastarr and I both wish to know more of this Bassilus that the town crier would speak of."

"A foul priest of the Prince of Lies. One who would seek to prey upon the living and turn them into the foulest of the realms . . . Undead to serve his own perverted ways. We of the Morning Song have made attempts to discern his location, but each time we draw close, he moves. The last place he was reported was to the west of the ruins of the Sea Cove Lighthouse. If you were to perhaps look for this villain Lathander would assuredly be most pleased and I'm quite sure you would go with His blessing."

Keldath murmured kindly to Lilliana and Ajantis rolled his eyes. If the man were anymore obvious he would have written his intentions on a large board and beaten Lilliana over the head with it.

"Master Ormlyr, Lady Avalon is quite young to be taking on such a task and if this Bassilus is as dangerous as you insinuate what makes you think she can handle something like that?" Ajantis finally asked, earning a sour look from Lilliana and an angry glare from Keldath that made him want to bite back his words. The paladin had come here with every intention of helping to capture the evil priest but the way this morning lord would _probe_ and _suggest_ that Lilliana would be able to do it without fuss and that if she did she would be rewarded made him angry.

"Well, _Helmite_, she does have _you_ does she not? You will forgive me if I am not so familiar with the dictates of the Watcher, but are you not bound to maintain an excellence of purity and of loyalty that binds you in your role as a guardian and as a protector of those that need such guardianship and protection?" Keldath recited the dogma of Helm almost word for word and it was doubtless that he knew it was accurate.

_Not familiar with the dictates my arse!_ Ajantis glowered at the smaller man but maintained his posture. "Of course Master Ormlyr. I meant only . . ."

Keldath interrupted the paladin before he could finish with a wave of one ringed hand. "I know what you meant. Dearest Lady Avalon, perhaps with your companion here you might do Lathander such a service as wiping this abomination clean from our lands?" The morning lord's tone with the half high-elf was _far_ different than when he spoke to the human. Lilliana smiled shyly, unused to the attention she was being paid.

"Well of course I would gladly serve My Lord, but I do have other companions and I will not make any decisions without consulting them, but if all are agreed than yes I will do my very best to serve the Most Brilliant Lathander in the face of the evil of Bassilus."

Keldath smiled widely. "Good milady, I am most pleased to hear such. Know that if you find this Bassilus he will likely not be brought to justice willingly. His life might have to be . . .taken . . .to prevent his evil from spreading."

Lilliana seemed for a moment as if she might object but a look of resignation came across her face and she nodded. "I shall do all that the Father of Light requires of me your eminence." Keldath nodded.

"Of course, I would expect nothing other than that. If this Bassilus must be . . ._permanently_ dealt with . . .the Temple of the Morning Song requests a donation from his person. His holy symbol perhaps, found somewhere within his possessions one would imagine."

Ajantis snorted derisively. 'You mean that you need _proof_?"

The morning lord eyed the paladin over one robed shoulder. "No, I mean that we request his holy symbol as a donation to our fine temple as a demonstration of good will towards Our Lord Lathander."

After that Lilliana and Master Ormlyr talked of the exact location of the Sea Cove Lighthouse and the priest was more than willing to draw the girl a map, and while it had been hastily drawn even Ajantis had to admit that Keldath had some very good artistic talent. Lilliana bid the priest a farewell and reiterated her insistence that she would be back with the requested donation if it was in her power and if all of her companions agreed.

"I do not like that man. He seeks to insinuate what he wants by sneaking around it like a child trying to get into his mother's cookie jar and his disdain of _me_ was quite plain." Ajantis remarked once they had left the temple.

Lilliana was lost in thought but some portion of her companion's words must have gotten through for she answered him. "Lord Ilvastarr, please, he is a morning lord of Lathander and we owe him respect for his station . . .even those who do not share his faith." She looked pointedly at Ajantis as she spoke.

"He is also the mayor of Beregost and we should be thankful that he chose to speak with us directly. I'm told that those serving in an official capacity such as that have very little time for idle conversation. His manner with you . . well, it might not have been the extreme of gentility but then _you_ were not behaving perfectly cordial with _him_ either. I did not find his eminence to be all that bad."

Ajantis wanted to say something but he was worried it would come out wrong so he held his tongue. He hated agreeing with the Harper druid about anything but Jaheira had been right when she'd said that Lilliana was far too naïve for her own good.

* * *

A skinny minstrel had taken the stage at Feldepost's Inn that afternoon and the small group of six paid him only a slight amount of attention as they talked amongst themselves. Viconia pulled her cowl closer, peering cautiously from it's deep shadows at the other patrons of the inn.

The main room was large and separated from the bar by thick white pillars. Beyond that was a set of wide double doors that opened into the kitchen and even over the minstrel's song the clattering of pans could still be heard. It was crowded this afternoon for some sort of performance, though watching the minstrel on stage Viconia doubted it was _his_ performance. She sniffed in distaste before turning her attention back to the group.

Jaheira's cutting tone was raised higher than that of the others but they were still keeping fairly quiet. "A necromancing priest of Cyric is a far cry from sneaking out of a bandit camp and even more so from fighting a small band of hobgoblins. You've practiced with Ajantis _one_ morning and while I'm sure that was beneficial it hardly means you are ready for something like _this_. I can scarcely believe that the mayor even suggested that you go after this man, could he not see that you were unaccomplished? It's so obvious that a blind man would notice it."

Ajantis took a sip of ale and spoke under his breath into the mug. "I doubt he cared, pompous ass." Lilliana turned to look at him and shook her head before speaking to Jaheira.

"I haven't said yes and I won't unless all of us agree. I know full well that I have no chance at all alone . . .I am not as stupid as you think I am." The half high-elf's voice was still as mousy as ever but it now held a tone that Jaheira hadn't noticed before and it made her pause before she spoke.

"I do not think you are stupid child, merely foolish. Do we even know what we might be facing?" Lilliana nodded.

"Yes. A small group of undead, though it's precise number I am not certain about. I know it sounds foreboding but often the descriptions of things don't match their reality, or so I've been told, and whether you believe it or not I actually _do_ have some experience with creatures of that kind. Lathander is a deity that grants much power to his children that would seek to eradicate the perversion that is un-death. I've trained with many illusions dealing with that particular adversity."

Her sister piped in, nodding her head and causing her strawberry blonde curls to bounce on her shoulders. "And how! Ya shoulda seen her! Phyldia summoned these skeletal warriors once, big ones too, and Lil did this thing to 'em . . .what did ya call it?"

Lilliana had her eyes locked fiercely on Jaheira still as she answered her sister. "Turn undead."

Imoen smiled. "Yeah! 'Turn undead' . . .never seen nothin like that before. Lil left nothin of those buggers but piles of dust!"

Viconia raised a brow in thought. _How odd. 'Turn undead' doesn't disintegrate the targets._

Jaheira shifted her eyes violet eyes away from Lilliana's intense glare, feeling very uncomfortable, and looked at Imoen. "Neither one of you seems to grasp that we are ill prepared for such a fight and I will not endorse such foolishness. I realize that the citizenry of Beregost needs aid but we will suffer losses if we take on this threat ourselves, and the fact that we don't know how many we would be facing makes the situation appear even more perilous _and_ unwise."

Ajantis finished his ale and cleared his throat. "While I did not appreciate Master Ormlyr's insistence that Lilliana take on this peril I must say that I think we _can_ accomplish this task. I'm no squire, I am knight who has trained for years under the Order and spent even more time in active battle. I know much of the ways of the undead. Not to mention that Lilliana does have some talents as a cleric . . . I saw how easily she called for her conjuration at the hobgoblin camp and Mistress Imoen is quite skilled with a bow. She has much potential." Imoen's green eyes lit up merrily at that, Ajantis smiled down at the girl as he continued. "With the support of the group as a whole we could very well take on these undead minions of Bassilus."

Viconia nodded, her voice adding to the paladin's and he barely contained his shock at her agreement. "I concur with the male. My goddess grants me a wide variety of conjurations and I am far more practiced than Lilliana . . . With me backing her she has an increased chance of success and this Cyric is a weakling god. He will falter under the power of Shar, it is assured."

Jaheira looked over at her husband for support. "I m-must agree with my w-wife. No m-matter the skills of the r-rest of us, it d-does not make up for the l-lack of experience that the girls have and i-if the bandit attack has shown us o-one thing it's that we c-cannot watch them a-all the time. J-Jaheira and I took an o-oath to a f-friend that we w-would guard o-over Lilliana and we've a-also taken I-Imoen as our c-charge. Our p-priority is to w-watch over the g-girls. I r-realize that the g-girls need a c-chance to practice b-but this would b-be a foolhardy task that you s-suggest." Khalid was nervous and he had a gut feeling that no matter his objections and those of his wife that they would wind up preparing for a fight against Bassilus anyway.

Lilliana's voice was low and measured as if she was struggling to maintain her patience. Under the table her fists were clenched tightly and her emerald eyes sparked with anger. "You know, you ask that I bring issues such as these to your attention and I have. I respect you both enough that I would not agree to this service without your support, even if everything I am is _screaming_ for me to aid Lathander. When I ask your opinion you treat me as if I have done you some great injustice by even _suggesting_ it, that there must be something wrong with me to have any hope that I might not be a feeble child after all.

I would not mind if you had disagreed with the task, it does not even bother me that you find this foe to be beyond any of us . . . you may be right. What _does_ bother me is that neither of you have any faith in me as a person or in Imoen. You told my father you would be my guardians . . ._ not_ that you would be replacement parents for a nineteen year old and a twenty year old who have no need of such! Imoen and I are _not_ children. We may not have the experience you do or the years of maturity but if that means that we aren't as cynical, snide, jaded and untrusting as you are then I don't know about my sister but I think _I'd_ rather stay just the way I am.

You ask that I respect _you_ but you won't respect _me_. You were willing enough to take us to Nashkel with you so what did you plan to do with us there? Drop us off at some inn like a couple of toddlers to play a game of blocks with Viconia while Ajantis served as our nanny so _you_ _two _could be left to investigate the problems at the mine on your own? If you don't want to aid the innocent people of Beregost that's fine but do not try to tell me that it's because you think it's too big a task; when in truth it's because you don't respect or trust me enough to let me make decisions of my own without being mollycoddled and talked down to like an infant! If you two represent the way all Harpers act than I no longer have to wonder why my father left your group!"

The half high-elf stormed up from the table almost running into a serving wench as she ran upstairs. Jaheira sat there flabbergasted, her husband gaping at her side. Imoen shifted her eyes nervously and excused herself from the table.

"I, uh, I think I better go check on her."

Viconia watched as the short human followed after her sister, a smile on her hidden ebony face. _The flower has thorns after all. _"You half breeds certainly have a way of alienating those you would seek to protect. Good job." The drow commented, smiling prettily under her cloak as Jaheira gave her an ill favored look. Viconia rose from her seat, nodding her cowled head in the direction of the two harpers. "I have prayers to attend to. " The priestess was almost giddy as she headed up the stairs.

Jaheira wanted to throttle the drow badly. Her happiness was no doubt caused by the fact that Lilliana just offloaded on Khalid and Jaheira. She certainly seemed the type to take enjoyment from another's discomfort.

Two pairs of violet eyes focused on the only other member who still sat at the table. Ajantis smiled, though not in the snide way that Viconia had. "Well, she does have spirit and while she is unaccomplished as you would say I think maybe you shouldn't continually remind her of that." The paladin ordered another drink as the married harpers shared a look between them.

Khalid lowered his head, his gut feeling stronger than ever. _Yes, I definitely think we are going to be hunting for a crazed cleric._

* * *

**14'th of Mirtul**

They had been two days out from Beregost and the sun was quickly setting on the second day. Jaheira leaned against her oak staff, taking a breath, and a moment to survey the terrain.

A long scar of rock was formed in the grassy hills of the sword coast, forming a natural wall that provided a very good hiding spot for their quarry. He had moved south of the Sea Cove lighthouse and it was by sheer luck that they had found him.

Ruins of some ancient grove dotted the area, covered by a thick copse of dead trees. Jaheira imagined that they had been alive once but the conjurations of the cleric that hid amongst them had killed them off. Unearthly moaning caught on the wind and seemed to echo around the stones.

Viconia had scouted ahead with Jaheira, convincing Lilliana that as a drow she was more adept at matters of stealth. The druid wondered when it was that they had begun looking to Lilliana as if she was their leader. She imagined that it had begun when Khalid had talked his wife into apologizing to the half high-elf and agreeing to the task the Lathanite Temple had given her.

Khalid said that they had to trust Lilliana with decisions of her own eventually or she would never trust _them_. Jaheira begrudgingly admitted that her husband was right but that made twice that she'd given in to what Lilliana wanted against her own standpoint. Now here she was scouting with a drow priestess because _Lilliana_ had been convinced that Viconia would make a good scout. The Shar priestess was all too happy to throw that in Jaheira's face.

The druid made a note to reassert her own authority in the group. This fragile new understanding between herself and Gorion's daughter was tentative indeed but that didn't mean the girl was ready to be leader for Silvanus' sake and it certainly didn't mean that Jaheira had to give in to _everything_ the girl wanted.

When the two females returned to the group the source of Jaheira's agitation was flipping through the pages of a bejeweled journal. "I thought you lost all your possessions at the bandit camp?" The druid remarked quietly and Lilliana looked up, her eyes beginning to glow with infravision in the darkness of the night.

"Ajantis found it in _his_ pack. We must have gotten our things mixed up at the Friendly Arm . . . isn't that amazing? Lathander smiles on our journey."

Jaheira rolled her eyes. _Lathander this and Lathander that_. She was beginning to wonder if the Morning Lord wasn't Lilliana's _true_ father. Jaheira bit back on her thoughts. It would be a blessing if that were the case instead of the awful being that _was_ Lilliana's sire. The Harper shook her head at the direction of her musings were going and moved across their small gathering to sit in the grass next to her husband. Khalid reached over and squeezed his wife's hand, as if he could read her troubled mind and wanted to reassure her.

"There appears to be about two dozen of the entities that this Bassilus has called upon, but given the location it is difficult to discern how many more might be hidden amongst the trees and stones. Cyric guards this one well." Jaheira finally spoke again as the group studied her.

Lilliana snorted. "_Cyric_ . . .to think that one was once mortal. It shames us mortals who are still here." The cleric responded thinking back on the origins of the Prince of Lies.

In the years before the Time of Troubles (a period in history where the gods were made mortal and forced to walk the lands of Faerûn) Cyric had been a mere mortal thief from Zhentil Keep. A trickster long before he was a diety he fooled Ao the Over God into believing that he was responsible for the return of the Tablets of Fate, despite the fact that he had been the one that had brought about their theft and caused the Time of Troubles to being with. A reward given from the divine wasn't enough for Cyric and he became obsessed with obtaining the power that such divines held for _himself._

He had 'earned' that position by murdering the god Bhaal during the Time of Troubles. With Bane, Bhaal, _and_ Myrkul dead (the trifecta known as The Dead Three) he assumed power over their realms, creating the Supreme Throne on the planes and leaving the other thrones unattended.

Lilliana had read much about his ascension and thought it unfair that Ao had allowed him such a place among the gods. She also wondered how long his rule might last. Bhaal was a god of foresight and the tomes about him said that he _always_ had a secondary plan of action ready if the first did not work out.

Alaundo, the founder of Candlekeep, had written of a prophecy that came to him in a dream, that Bhaal had foreseen his death at the hands of Cyric and had left his Throne of Blood long before the Time of Troubles ever occurred, impregnating thousands of females from all the different races with his evil seed. It was said that these children would massacre each other until only one remained and the one would bring their father back to power and serve at his side. If that were the case then perhaps Bhaal had a plan for Cyric and if so Lilliana doubted it was one that would allow the Prince of Lies to hold onto his rule. She shuddered involuntarily at that.

Forgetting the looming threat of Bhaal this Cyric was still the devil's plague amongst the pantheon and she was certain that Lathander was looking down upon his awakened now and blessing the group's attack against the evil of one of Cyric's clerics. She smiled and put her book of conjurations aside.

"How are we going to approach then? Should we attempt to speak with Bassilus and ask him to surrender? Eminence Ormlyr believes he will _not_ surrender himself to be put to trial for his misdeeds."

Ajantis nodded at Lilliana's side. "With that at least Master Ormlyr and I are agreed."

"A silence conjuration. It will prevent him from calling any conjurations of his own and thusly he also will not be able to heal himself . . . Unless he has potions. It will bring about his death quicker." Viconia remarked. Lilliana shook her head.

"We should only kill him if no other option presents itself. Despite Eminence Ormlyr's opinions, and yours Ajantis, I think we should make _some_ attempt at capturing him . . . At least give him a _chance_ to come willingly." The cleric expected Jaheira and Khaild to argue with her, but oddly enough they agreed.

"Even the m-most foul of b-beings deserves at l-least s-some chance at r-redemption." Khalid offered the girl a smile and she returned it in kind.

"Nonetheless chi . . . Lilliana, we should ready ourselves for a more violent outcome so we are prepared if Bassilus refuses to come with us." Jaheira still had her husband's hand as she spoke, finding the effort to _not_ call Lilliana 'child' quite difficult.

"Yes . . . That sounds good. Who is going to approach Bassilus then? It should be someone that looks imposing and yet kind. . . Like . . ." Her green eyes settled on Ajantis and she smiled. "Like a paladin of the Order."

Ajantis and Imoen both were aided by infravision conjurations to help their human eyes see in the dark and the paladin could clearly recognize the intent on Lilliana's face and he sighed. "As the lady wishes it."

* * *

Bassilus rubbed at the back of his neck, faced with the approaching night he felt much better, though his neck pain had continued. At night the gods will couldn't shine down on him, at night he could hide. The only deity he trusted was Cyric and he had not failed him yet. When he had been jailed in Beregost for a time by that over zealous Lathanite he had gotten out. Since then Cyric had aided the flight of his faithful, supplying him with many victims. . . Now his family.

_It had been so long since Zhentil Keep had . . . No, he wouldn't think about that._ A groan from a newly acquired 'brother' drew his attention and the cleric smiled, his dark brown eyes crazed and jerking back in forth in their sockets. "Oh brother Thurm . . . Is it time then for another story? I would like a story."

A circle of animated corpses in varying states of decay surrounded the cleric, serving him under the power of the conjuration he had used upon them. Bassilus had come across so many travelers, recognizing their faces as those that he had once seen at Zhentil Keep. He did not understand why they didn't remember, but he had shown them, he had shown them _all_ and after they finally recognized him he had animated their bodies so that they would never leave him again.

The zombie he had been addressing groaned, dragging his rotting feet along the ground. Bassilus smiled at the creature. "Oh come now. Don't be shy . . . I'm sure you could tell us a roaring tale of adventure we have never heard before." A rustle of branches came from near the cleric and he turned, his bedraggled robes hanging on his undernourished frame and making him appear as if he too were amongst his undead servants.

"Who goes there? Another cousin perhaps?" An eager grin spread on the mad man's face. A tall armored figure appeared from the shrubs, encircled by some kind of enchantment. Recognition dawned on Bassilus face and he jumped up and down excitedly.

"Oh Father! Father is that you? It is isn't it? Oh Father, we have missed you! Do you see what I have done? I have brought together our family once again! Nearly all of them, though I had to make them remember. I have your war hammer as well Father! Ashideena is once again where she belongs." The cleric pulled the golden weapon from its holster, caressing it lovingly, sparks of electricity running over it.

Ajantis composed himself as he stood there. Lilliana, Viconia and Jaheira had conjured enough protections over him to make him glow but he was still pretty nervous. Now that he was in the clearing he could see that the undead gathering numbered well over the two dozen Jaheira had reported. Zombies and skeletons shuffled about, many holding weapons. The madman that had conjured them was looking at him now; honestly believing him to be his sire. This was going to be hard. Ajantis took a deep breath before he spoke.

"Ah yes my . . .Son, it is I, your father. How have you been . . . Ah dear boy?" He could almost feel Viconia snickering at him from her spot in the bushes, hidden with the others.

"I have been well, though the evil Lathanite from Beregost would hunt me relentlessly. Our family has protected me from those he would send to kill me though. Death to all who oppose Cyric." Bassilus laughed and the sound of it sent shivers of revulsion up Ajantis' spine.

"These are not our family my boy, can you not see that they are merely innocent victims and now nothing but undead creatures? Please my boy, come with me, come with your father and I will help you." Ajantis offered.

Bassilus looked hurt and took a step back. "No, no Father! Why do you say this? I need no help!" He raised the hammer in front of him protectively.

Ajantis sighed. _This wasn't going to end well._ "Please my son. You have been driven mad by Cyric. Come with me and . . ."

Bassilus raised the hammer as if he was going to strike. "NO! You have forgotten Father, but I will help you remember!" Bassilus smiled now, either pleased with himself or the words of someone else that only he could hear. "You'll remember and Ashideena will help you. She will never leave us again and neither will you Father!"

Ajantis motioned to his comrades and the battle was matched. Viconia had sent a silence conjuration into the center of the group and it had attached itself to only living being amongst their adversaries. Bassilus tried to scream in rage when his own conjurations failed, but his anger didn't last as he motioned his minions into the fray; zombies that sought out the fresh blood being offered to them and skeletons that mindlessly went after any living targets beside their master.

Imoen was shooting arrows as rapidly as she could, going for the zombies. Too many holes were found at the spaces between skeletal bones but zombies at least had a soft rotted flesh to provide a solid target.

Lilliana swung her hammer in an arc, the sprint she had taken giving her extra momentum, and it came crashing into a white rib cage. The howl of the released spirit sounded into the trees and echoed off the rocks as the skeleton itself fell to pieces. She didn't have time to admire the strike before another score of the creatures were upon her.

Jaheira called for the roots of the earth, and they sprouted from their resting place to wrap themselves around exposed limbs. Her quarter staff had taken down many of their enemies but there were yet several more.

Khalid seemed to doing fairly well, having enough time to plan his almost dance like attacks. As Imoen had, the Calmishite half elf was having a harder time with the skeletons than the zombies.

The group had been so overwhelmed by Bassilus' undead that they had all but ignored the silenced Bassilus himself. Ajantis was trying to keep track of the madman as he battled off two very strong zombies, calling upon Helm to aid him against the foul creatures. The cleric was out of sight and Ajantis was far too embroiled in his own battle to look for him.

Another duck, another roll. Lilliana found her small frame to be a benefit as she swerved to miss the swing of a skeleton's mace. Viconia crushed the creature's skull with a mace of her own, nodding at the half high-elf. They were going to attempt a turn undead conjuration together, back to back. First though they had to thin the enemies around them. Neither of them saw the man that swung a massive war hammer in their direction.

It sparked with energy and an arc of lightning reached out to the two females. Viconia screamed in pain and fell to the ground, her hair singed. Lilliana had jumped out of the way but now found herself a prone form in a circle of ten undead. Bassilus was moving towards the injured Viconia and Lilliana tried to shout out her name, but had to duck from an oncoming blow.

The Lathanite cleric pushed herself to her feet and swung wildly, knowing that she had barely even grazed her enemies with her unfocused swings, but they had moved back. _She had to get free of the circle they had her enclosed within! _Spotting an opening she dove for it, hardly managing to hold onto her hammer. Her face crashed painfully into the rock strewn dirt as she lost her footing. She looked back to see that the undead creatures had barely even noticed she was gone, instead focusing their attention on Jaheira.

Looking around her she could see all her companions in tight situations and it was becoming apparent that this battle could prove too much for them. _I have to do something! _Her position on the ground had offered her a wide view of the situation and her desperate eyes traveled to Viconia, struggling to recover after the magical attack of Bassilus' hammer. _Can I do it on my own?_ Lilliana thought, not sure how a turn undead conjuration would work against so many opponents.

She winced as she shoved herself up, pain shooting across her face. _Lathander guide my hands, let me not falter in my task._ Lilliana prayed silently, deciding that she had to attempt the conjuration or her companions would be overwhelmed. _I got them into this; I HAVE to get them out._ Scrapped palms came together as the cleric stood, trying to hurry. She drowned out the noises of battle, focusing her mind on the conjuration. Finally she felt the energy of her deity's answering call flowing through her body.

Viconia saw the other cleric and recognized her movements. _She was supposed to wait for her! _That thought didn't have time to grow because now the Cyrican was upon her, his eyes mad with glee. The lightning that had emanated from his war hammer had burned the drow badly but she was already recovering, her resistance to magic strong.

"You will not lay a finger on _me_ male." She kicked out with her booted feet, knocking Bassilus down. He scrambled back on his feet quicker than she had anticipated, no doubt aided by his foul deity. Viconia smiled as she readied her mace, its angry points glinting in the moonlight. She ducked as he swung, intending to smash his face with _her_ weapon until a bright light surrounded the area and Viconia had to shield her sensitive eyes from the painful illumination.

Lilliana had begun to glow with the power of the oncoming conjuration, its enchantment creating a flow of both energy and air around her. Black strands of hair seemed to float around her face as if she was submerged within a pool of water. Eyes closed in concentration could still feel the heat of Lathander's light . . . Bringing the warmth of the sun even in the darkness of night. _Wipe these foul apparitions away with the touch of your grace My Lord._ The cleric thought as she finished the words of her conjuration. She let the powerful enchantment loose, the force of it knocking her companions off their feet.

The wave of the conjuration struck Bassilus and he felt his body moving through the air until he impacted with a gathering of bushes and fell upon the worn earth. Regaining his composure he looked up in horror at all that was left of his family. Nothing more now than piles of dust or puddles of destroyed flesh, all of them gone. Deep sorrow was etched on his face and the prone man let out a wail, sheer force of will eliminating the restraints of the drow's silence conjuration.

"NOOOO! My family!" He looked over at the half high-elf cleric with hatred in his eyes. "Nothing is more important than family and _you _. . . you killed them!"

Lilliana's head was woozy from the enchantment and moments passed before she didn't feel like she was going to faint. Her knees had given out from the force of such a conjuration and she found herself on the ground. She looked up as Bassilus marched towards her, his golden war hammer in hand. Panicked she made to produce her own weapon in front of her only to realize that she had dropped it during all the confusion. Her companions were getting back up but Bassilus was already before her, eyes filled with dark rage and stained with tears as the Cyrican cleric wept.

"My family!" He wailed again, raising the hammer high for a devastating strike.

The Lathanite rolled to her side, her whole body feeling worn and desperately reached for anything she could defend herself with. A small shield was amongst the pile of bone dust near the cleric and she clawed for it, finally getting it in her grasp and holding it in front of her just as Bassilus' hammer came down. The force sent a wrenching shockwave into the metal and through Lilliana's right arm. She howled in agony and dropped the circular metal shield.

Bassilus came after her again and she screamed as his strike missed her by a mere breath of space. Lilliana didn't have enough strength for another conjuration and the silver war hammer she had been carrying was nowhere to be found. "Lathander help me!' She cried out, rolling to avoid another blow, one close enough to send spews of dust into her face.

"Lathander be damned in the Nine Hells!" Bassilus cried out and readied another strike. Lilliana watched terrified as the bringer of her death stood before her.

He stopped, choking on something and the war hammer fell from his grasp to land harmlessly on the ground. Lilliana watched, caught in morbid fascination as a trickle of blood escaped from the corners of Bassilus' mouth. A sword tip emerged through his chest, only to be pulled back out. Bassilus clutched at the wound and fell to his knees gasping in pain.

A sad look came into his eyes when he looked at Lilliana. "Goodbye mother." The dying cleric spoke as he finally fell completely, now lying on the ground lifeless.

Lilliana looked up to see a shaking Khalid, sword still drawn. He looked down at Bassilus' body and then back at Lilliana.

"A-Are you a-alright?" Lilliana nodded, rising from her spot to hug Khalid as tightly as she could with her left arm, her right throbbing badly now.

There was naught but silence in the glade and Lilliana pulled away from Khaild as she looked around her. Her companions were staring at her as if she had just grown another head, save Imoen who was grinning widely from ear to ear.

"See?! I told you she could turn 'em all to dust! That's my sis!" The red headed bounded over to the half high-elf and put an arm around her shoulders.

"What was _that_?!" Ajantis finally spoke, his brown eyes wide. Lilliana shrugged.

"It was a turn undead conjuration. Lathander must have realized that we were in desperate need of assistance and aided my abilities."

Jaheira and Khaild shared a look. The Harpers were sure that it had indeed been a god that had granted such an unnaturally decimating conjuration, but it was not so certain that it had been _Lathander_.

"That was _not_ 'turn undead' Lilliana." Viconia remarked, slapping at her clothes to rid them of dust. Her red eyes were glowing angrily. "You were supposed to wait for me."

Lilliana smiled shyly. "Sorry. You did not seem in the position to aid me and well . . . Hey! What do you mean that wasn't turn undead? Of course it was. I practiced it many times with Lady Phyldia and Master Sestina."

Viconia shook her head. "I have conjured such a thing many times before and what you conjured . . . Turn undead does not destroy its target like your enchantment just did. How can a cleric of such small power conjure such a thing?"

Emerald eyes clouded with confusion. "I spoke the words described in the sacred scrolls. Lathander answered my call . . . It had to be turn undead." Viconia started to argue but Jaheira interrupted her, earning a very rotten look from the drow.

"Enough discussion. We should save it for a better time. I would be more prudent to check the area for this holy symbol Master Ormlyr wanted and then let us leave this unholy spot." The druid remarked and Viconia just growled and stalked off, looking over the piles of dust and flesh.

Bassilus lay beside his war hammer, his blank eyes to the sky as the moon shone down on the hole that ran through his torso. Lilliana walked over to the cleric's corpse and kneeled down. She had hoped they wouldn't have to kill him but it seemed that the fates had decided otherwise. The Lathanite felt a swelling of pity for the man that lay before her now.

He had been affected by Cyric's evil and if she had heard the words he spoke to Ajantis correctly, then he wanted nothing more than to have family and to be amongst the company of others. It was the Prince of Lies that drove him to find family in those that weren't and made him turn those hapless victims into foul undead. Lilliana placed her palm against the cold of Bassilus cheek.

"I am so very sorry for what he did to you. I promise that I shall give you a proper burial . . . May your soul find the peace it sought in the afterlife."

Grimacing at the task Lilliana checked his robes for personal items and her searching fingers found a sharp metal disc. She withdrew it to be faced with the grinning black skull of Cyric. Lilliana made at face at it and placed it in her pocket. Imoen was standing next to her sister, her bow on her back and the arrows back in their quiver.

"Shouldn't ya take his other stuff too?" She asked but her sister shook her head.

"No, the items upon his person are his and he will be buried with them. I will not rob the dead." Lilliana _had_ taken things from the hobgoblins but in her mind they were monsters, not people. This Bassilus, he had been a person. Someone's son, maybe someone's brother. Now nothing but a lifeless body.

Imoen pointed across the ruined glade to a golden war hammer. "What about that? He won't need it where he's goin . . . It would do a fair dealing to those killed here if you took it. Used the weapon he used against his victims as a weapon of justice."

Again the words of Lilliana's father in the dream came back to her, reflected in Imoen's chirping voice. _Weapons of peace and of justice._ "Yes . . . Yes I suppose that would be fitting. Come, we need to gather the others and dig a grave."

The half high-elf picked up the war hammer as they neared it and she almost imagined she heard a voice in her head when she did. Bassilus had called it Ashideena and the name had a beauty that matched the weapon. Lilliana marveled over its construction. The handle was carved with a language she didn't recognize but it looked lovely, written in swirling scroll work along the length of the obsidian material. The end of the handle had a rather nasty looking tip, making the handle itself a weapon. Ashideena's head was of a glimmering gold and when Lilliana touched it a shimmer of blue electric energy sparked across it.

_An enchanted lightning hammer? What fine workmanship it is!_ Her green eyes glowed with appreciation. She looked over at Bassilus. "I will use this to prevent evil deeds such as yours and perhaps to give you a redemption that you might seek. Rest well Bassilus."

* * *

"What did this girl look like?" Sarevok asked the grotesquely large half-ogre that stood before him. For his kind Tazok was quite articulate but he still had a habit of using gestures to construe his meaning and consistently referred to himself in third person. The bandit leader tilted his head to regard the golden eyed human before him.

"Tazok was told she was little, with black hair and green eyes. Too fragile to have something like this. That is why Tazok brought you this . . ._ book_." The half-ogre finished for effect.

Lord Sarevok Anchev was visiting the leader of the bandits the Iron Throne had hired. His father had sent him to see how the group's movements were going along. At first Sarevok didn't seem to care when Tazok mentioned the three captives that escaped, until Tazok had brought the war lord the book his lackeys had found amongst the half high-elf girl's belongings.

It was a horrid looking thing, bound in what appeared to be human skin, with a sigil of a skull surrounded by black tear drops. When Tazok had tried to open it a severe head ache assaulted him, causing his nose to bleed and he had thrown the book to the ground. The half ogre then put it in a sack and saved it for his master's visit.

Sarevok looked upon the item with awe. _The Book of Chaos! _The girl Tazok was describing sounded an awful lot like Lilliana Avalon and Sarevok seethed that she yet lived, and now she had another human with her and a female drow. The large human smiled. Maybe the drow had killed her by now. . . It was very likely. How had she come across something like this? A simple answer came to Sarevok.

It must have been something that Gorion Avalon had and the little whelp took it when he died. It was in much better hands now nonetheless. Sarevok understood its power and would use it to his own ends.

"You have done well Tazok. Perhaps a bonus is in order. I will have some of the new slaves from the Dalelands brought to the camp for your personal enjoyment along with some of my finest black lotus." The half ogre grinned happily at that and bowed.

"Tazok would be most honored Lord Anchev." Sarevok smiled back, an expression that terrified most but seemed to have no effect on Tazok. It was just as well. If the uniquely intelligent half-ogre was to work for the Iron Throne he needed blood of lava and a skin of steel. Perhaps when the time came he could prove an asset to Sarevok alone.

"What of the black haired elf Tazok told you about my lord?" Sarevok barely gave it a moment's notice, preoccupied with his new acquisition.

"_Half high-_elf Tazok and you are to send out more bounties. Increase the reward. I want her dead . . . Soon."

Tazok nodded and bowed. "As Lord Anchev wishes."


	6. Chapter Five: Rest and Relaxation

_**Disclaimer:**_

_"Forgotten Realms: Baldur's Gate" belongs to Bioware, TSR, and Black Isle Studios. Lilliana is mine and situations that you don't recognize from the game are mine, all other material and inspiration for my material is under copyright by the above named. Additional Forgotten Realms material included in this story but not in the game belongs to Wizards of the Coast._

_**Words from the Author: **_

_Welcome Ztin :) I hope you've been able to get up to date with the chapters, I know my chapters are long. I don't like angst all the time, action all the time or really much of anything 'all the time' so I go from quiet moments of self reflection, to romping jolly times, to the thick of battle because I don't want there too be 'too much of a good thing' So I hope you enjoy those slower moments sometimes along with the fast paced ones._

_Snake, my favorite beta-reader, I'm glad you enjoy Lilliana as much as I do and keep reading to see where we are going. I have some nice surprises and developments in store not only for those familiar with the storyline but those like you that don't know the games all that well. _

_Crazee, thank you again my constant reader. I thought I'd had Ajantis' age somewhere but when I went back I realised I hadn't elaborated on that. _

_Doh: p I've fixed that here. _

_If the amounts of hits for chapter four is any indication then there are a lot of you that are reading but aren't reviewing. I do allow anonymous reviews, so even if you aren't registered feel free to drop a word. I appreciate them. For all you Kivan lovers out there, I think something in this chapter is going to make you happy. ;) _

_As always dear readers, thank you for joining Lilliana on her journey._

* * *

_**Chapter Five:**_

_**Rest and Relaxation**_

* * *

**V**iconia expressed her feelings on burying the dead cleric quite clearly but Lilliana had stood her ground and the drow had backed off. Ajantis watched the verbal exchange between the two with a sigh and a shake of his head, his brown eyes deep with thought.

The drow sniped a lot and didn't seem to have a great deal of regard for others, which was typical of her race, and yet she gave in to a half-elf, a surfacer. Ajantis had to wonder at the Shar priestess' motives for staying with the group and for taking directives from someone she most assuredly saw as her lesser. Still, the knight imagined that had Lilliana been male instead of female that the odd relationship between the two would be far more tenuous.

He also had to admit that Viconia wasn't the only one that thought burying the madman was unnecessary. Everyone _but_ Lilliana had objected. She had informed them that it was Cyric, _not_ Bassilus, that was to blame and that the human cleric deserved a decent burial for he was as much a casualty of the Prince of Lies as Bassilus' victims were.

Ajantis and Khalid had been the ones to dig the grave, both adamantly refusing to let the females do such a thing though the paladin secretly wished Viconia had been doing it. He wanted to see her reaction to performing a backbreaking and dirty task. Ajantis chided himself inwardly for his selfish and childish thoughts.

Holy water taken from the Temple of the Morning Song and blessed by Lathander had been sprinkled over the remnants of the undead. Lilliana said that such blessed liquid would prevent the corpses it touched from ever being raised by a cleric again. Apparently Lathander's holy water could also be used as some kind of ethereal acid against troll kin. Sometimes the amount of knowledge stored away inside Lilliana's little skull amazed Ajantis. That one so young could remember so much, as easily as if the tome she had read it from was in her hands at that very moment.

There were an abundance of violet larkspur flowers that had grown beside a nearby creek, amazingly unscathed by Bassilus' foul conjurations. Imoen and Lilliana had picked several of them and placed them upon the Cyrican cleric's grave once it had been covered. The girls had also amassed a small collection of pebbles from the shallow creek bed and Ajantis watched intently as they placed them in a sigil like pattern over the turned earth.

"What is that you are doing there?" He asked them and Imoen answered, her sister deep in the prayers of soul sending.

"It's the Sun of Lathander, Lil showed me how to make it." The sigil of the Morning Lord placed on the grave of a Cyrican. It was utterly ridiculous but the thought of it made Ajantis grin anyway.

When the half high-elf had finished she stood up slowly, smiling at the coming dawn. The battle against Bassilus had lasted longer than any of them realized and the paladin wondered how much time had been wasted in burying the evil cleric. Streaks of red dotted the eastern horizon now, it's light reaching up into the sky, creating a thick haze over the stars that yet remained to the west.

"We will rest for a time and then make haste back to Beregost." Jaheira's reply came and Ajantis almost jumped in surprise. Both the druid and her warrior husband had been oddly silent since the defeat of Bassilus, their eyes often straying to Lilliana with a barely veiled worry. This was the first time the Harper druid had said anything since then.

"Y-Yes. I n-need some balm f-for my armor s-straps. B-Bit of chafing." Khalid added, trying to smile but still that bothered stare was in his violet eyes and Ajantis wanted to know what it was that caused them both to look at their charge that way.

Perhaps they were worried that she was coming into her own and would no longer need them? Ajantis had encountered that kind of reaction from guardians before . . .his own, hired by his mother and father to watch over him in their absence.

Ajantis' parents led a very busy life as noble industrialists and owners of a famous inn, the Yawning Portal, and also in their secret lives. Durnan and Larissa Ilvastarr (formerly of the Neathal family) both served in whispered secret as two of the many masked ' Lords of Waterdeep' led by the only Lord who didn't have to hide his face with a mask, Piergeiron Paladinson. Ajantis was their only child and found out about his parents by nothing short of a rumor.

At first he had been angry, but the Order had given him the strength of character to learn and accept those things that he could not change. With his parents barely around the young boy's attendants had formed an attachement to Ajantis and when he had grown old enough to spend his days at the Order they had been saddened.

It seemed likely that the Harpers were experiencing the same sadness, though Jaheira had told the wood elf ranger that she only was concerned over Imoen and Lilliana's safety because she had promised a friend that she would look after them. Khalid seemed to be more emotionally connected to the girls than his wife, but the look he gave the cleric now was nearly identical to that of the druid. Ajantis was hard pressed to know the true source of their distress. For now it was something he'd have to think on in private.

"I would have us seek shade from the accursed sun." Viconia remarked, her red eyes looking to Lilliana with an almost begging regard. Lilliana nodded.

"I see nothing wrong with that. There is plenty of shade amongst the trees here, though even after this glade has been cleansed by the waters of Lathander I find myself wishing to rest elsewhere."

Imoen swatted a small cloud of black flies that were harassing her and nodded. "Yeah, I don't wanna be here much longer neither."

"It's settled then. Come girls." Jaheira motioned the sisters on as the group gathered their belongings and left the site of battle.

Lilliana had found her silver war hammer and had placed it back in it's holster. Ashideena was firmly in her grip and she caressed it with her free hand. It was so beautiful and she wondered how lovely it would look with the sun's brilliance on it's golden surface. Ajantis came up behind her, his voice soft and pleasant.

"It is a wonderful bit of weaponry. It's easier to admire now that it is in far better hands." Lilliana smiled up at him.

"Do you think so? Perhaps now we can try out your suggestion about two war hammers."

Ajantis nodded, moving his hand to remove a twig from Lilliana's mussed hair. "Indeed, you have been coming along nicely during our training together. Back there with the Cyrican, your execution was far from perfect but it was a lot more smooth than it would have been but a few days ago. The muscles in your arms also seem to be bulking, though right now it's barely noticeable." The paladin remarked, squeezing the half high-elf's bicep gently through the material of her common shirt, the edge of her chain mail brushing against his hand. Lilliana laughed shyly.

"Well, I do have a good trainer." They smiled at each other for long moments, causing Viconia to roll her eyes behind them.

Imoen watched the pair as well, unable to help the small sting of jealousy she felt. She knew it was silly. Ajantis thought of Lilliana as a little girl still, much the same as he did Imoen, and sought only to garner her sister's friendship and to help her excel in battle . . .but the feeling of envy was still there. Khalid had helped Imoen learn to use her short sword better and also with a bit of archery, and he was a patient tutor but he didn't hold long conversations with her, or gently squeeze her arm or bring her a cup of a water . . .all the things Ajantis did with Lilliana.

At Candlekeep Imoen had been the one to draw most of the attention of the boys that had come to visit with their families, and even some of the younger monks. Her cheeks reddened when she thought of Shistal and how her adopted father, Winthrop, had become quite furious over that little indescretion. _Well, __almost__ indescetion._

Imoen had been heavier set when she was little, but her height had shot up after thirteen and the workouts the monks at Candlekeep had put her through had slimmed her up not to mention adding defining curves to her girlish frame. With her full face and modest yet shapely figure Imoen had gotten a lot of attention from younger male visitors and had many crushes.

Lilliana had always been waif like, her prominent elf features blending with her human blood to make her both skinny and plain. Her eyes had been the one thing that really stood out and adolescent boys weren't interested in getting close enough to see _those_ if her form wasn't pleasing from afar. She had also been very bookish and shy and coupled with her figure there weren't many young men and boys that had looked at her with anything beyond simple friendship in mind. Imoen figured that Anomen Delryn, who had been Lilliana's first crush, was also her _only_ crush and the only boy to show much interest in her.

Now she felt guilty about being jealous over Lilliana, but she couldn't help it. At twenty eight years of age Ajantis still had a boyish charm with a more matured sense of self. He was tall, very masculine and quite handsome. With his polished words, smooth accent, regard for females and maintained noble standards he was a true gentleman and a dream come true for any young woman.

The human girl couldn't keep herself from wishing that it was _her_ that was training with Ajantis, that it was_ her_ he had become so friendly with. She sighed and situated her traveling pack to a more comfortable spot against her shoulder blades.

Looking over at her sister as she smiled and laughed at something the paladin told her she noted that Lilliana had become quite pretty now, though Imoen wasn't sure when that had happened. Her pale complexion had a light golden tan to it and there was a slight change to her frame; her gaunt face starting to fill out, her arms not quite as scarecrow thin.

Gorion had always called Lilliana his 'winter blossom' meaning that he thought her physical maturity would come later in life. From what Imoen had read about half-elves that seemed to be true. Maybe Anomen had been right, maybe Lilliana would become a true beauty when her body caught up with her mind.

Lilliana crinkled her nose as the black flies that had been assaulting Imoen came after _her_. Imoen laughed silently at her sister's scrunched up expression. _Then again, maybe not._

Trailing at the back of the group, Viconia felt the warmth of the rising sun begin to creep up her back and caught herself enjoying it for a moment. She had spent many years upon the surface now and the signs were beginning to show. Her ivory hair had strands of gold in it, variously strewn. Her eyes which had been glowing ruby pools had dulled in color, sometimes looking more brown than red. Ebony skin had paled, a lighter hue under it's surface.

Viconia sneered at herself as she thought of what she was now. _The sun touched drow._ As much as she griped about the sun her once over sensitive eyes had become accustomed to it. She still had to keep her gaze down cast when the sun was at it's brightest but no longer did it make her eyes tear up. She could look at a glowing full moon, or the sharp twinkle of stars without any discomfort at all.

She knew that if she ever came across any of her kin that she would have an advantage over them. Such an 'advantage' would be seen as a weakness by those that still called the Underdark home, but Viconia knew it for what it was. To be able to look across the land during the hours of daylight, to be able to fight in such light, was a boon, as much as she didn't like admitting it.

There were many times that the drow had questioned herself for leaving Menzoberranzan but ever since she had been with Lilliana she realized that she hadn't thought about it that much. _How curious_. To watch the group interact was something she hadn't seen a lot of, having only watched groups like theirs from afar for fear of being attacked.

In the Underdark to be a drow meant you were the great noble race of that sunless realm, even though that was far from a perfect life, but here such ebony skin was almost a death warrant. Hated on sight, mistrusted and hunted all because of what you were. Stealth had become Viconia's second nature, the art of blending in unnoticed amongst the surface dwellers.

When the group was out in the wilderness Viconia could walk unfettered. No matter the glowers she received from the Harpers, the paladin and Lilliana's sister, she could be free and unconstrained. Even when they were arguing with her they were still talking to her like she was a person, not just a mindless evil vessel of Lolth. Viconia did not know what to make of it. The reaction from the half high-elf was the most puzzling of all. Lilliana didn't seem to even notice that Viconia was a drow half the time, making remarks about it only when she was curious or thought such origins would help the group, like when she had agreed to Viconia scouting with Jaheira.

The word 'abbil' was used in Drow society to suggest 'friend' but in those deep dark cities there were no _true_ friends and the word didn't seem to fit with what the surfacers considered 'friend' Viconia thought maybe that Lilliana saw her as a friend, but the meaning of that was unclear.

She stuck up for Viconia when one of the others spoke against her, she was willing to bunk with her and seemed genuinely interested in what the drow said. The cleric laughed up ahead with the paladin and Viconia watcher her closely. _Maybe that wasn't such an awful thing . . . to have a friend . . . a real one._

"I can't quite picture you as a skinny little boy wielding a wooden sword. I think you are jesting with me Lord Ilvastarr." Lilliana remarked, a playful grin displayed wide on her face. Ajantis held a hand against his chest as if he had been wounded.

"Oh! The lady doth attack me with her words and how they sting! To suggest that _I_ would jest . . .the nerve of some people!" His fake air of snotty nobility came with an equally fraudulent high pitched voice, brown eyes sparkling with mirth.

Lilliana covered her mouth and giggled against her palm. "Oh stop, that's horrid!" Ajantis smiled back, his voice back to it's normal tone.

"I used to tease my Aunt Margorine with that voice . . . Actually it sounded quite a bit like her."

Lilliana's laughter began anew. "You had an aunt named _Margarine_?!" Ajantis snorted.

"No. Mar-jor-een, but you had it close enough. If there is one person in my family I don't miss it would be that shriveled up shrew. She had to gripe about everything or her day wasn't complete . . . Somewhat like a certain person we know." He nodded his head in the direction of Viconia, who was mumbling to herself under her breath. Lilliana gave Ajantis a perturbed look.

"Really, she is not all that bad. You just have to get used to her, that's all." Ajantis smirked at that.

"Funny how you knew exactly who I was talking about." The half high-elf slapped his shoulder lightly, growing less shy with her trainer by the day.

"I can hear you up there . . ._male_. Watch your tongue lest I take it from your ill formed mouth!" Viconia shouted, and Ajantis paid her no heed, waving her away with one hand. It was by far the most calm reaction he had to one of her threats since he met her. Maybe Lilliana was making progress after all.

"Tell me, is it in the nature of all of Lathander's children to be so accommodating with the differences found in others? I would likely think not judging on how Master Ormlyr behaved." Lilliana considered that for a moment.

"Not _really_ no, but He fosters in us good feelings that by their very nature almost require one to look beyond themselves and always seek to aid others. My Lord likes new ideas and new concepts, I'm certain He approves of breaking oneself from a shell of misinformation. I think the reason that some races don't get along is because they just do not understand one another. I only hope that I can look at everyone I meet with a fair judgment in my eyes, that I will not look upon another with ill feelings simply because it's the hackneyed description."

Ajantis nodded. "I suppose I can understand that, but I don't know if I can do the same myself. In my experience sometimes people live up to the assumptions about them." He countered, not sure how to respond when Lilliana countered back.

"How will you know that if you never try to find out the truth on _your own_?"

* * *

They had defeated a crazed cleric of sufficient power _and_ the horde of undead he had with him. Nimbul could not help but wonder how they had managed that, more than a little angry at himself for not following them when they traveled out to hunt down Bassilus. He was watching the group now, perched high in the eaves of the Temple of the Morning Song. Keldath Ormlyr was glowing around Lilliana, setting all manner of praise upon her and she seemed embarrassed to take it. _Of course she is, my flower is a modest one._

He twirled a small blade against his pale palm, enjoying the feel of it against his bare skin. Watching the little half high-elf was nearly as enjoyable however and a thrill of anticipation ran up his spine as his eyes followed her as she left the temple with her companions. She had been training with that big knight that hung around her and Nimbul could easily notice the subtle changes, both exterior and interior, in her. The essence of the girl hadn't changed though and it was her essence he was most interested in.

Perhaps he would look upon her as she slept in the coming evening and he had no doubts the growing company would spend another night in town. . .and from there the group was going to Nashkel. There was a mark of Nimbul's in Nashkel, but if he eliminated the man early he didn't know what Rieltar would say. Not that he was very worried about it except that it might rouse some suspicion and such suspicion would hamper Nimbul in the courtship of his lady.

He was about to leave when the doors came open and Lilliana walked back inside. Apparently she wished to speak with Ormlyr in private. Nimbul attuned himself to the words shared between them as he listened intently.

"I wished to . . . to speak with you about something . . .alone. It's . . .well I .. . It's about my conjurations. One of them anyway." Lilliana stated, her fingers nervously moving against each other as she held her hands at her sides. Keldath smiled at her, eager to listen after her group had gotten rid of Bassilus and brought back his holy symbol.

"Of course _dawn mistress_ Lilliana." He patted her shoulder in an almost parental fashion as he enunciated her new position as an official servant of the Song of the Morning Temple.

She didn't meet his gaze, still more than a bit self-conscious at the fuss but also quite thrilled at finally gaining the title of dawn mistress and signing under a temple. "I called for a turn undead conjuration, when we were fighting Bassilus, but from the way the others reacted to it . . . it wasn't normal."

Keldath raised a brow at her choice of words, tutting low in his throat. "Tsk tsk tsk, now my dear Lady Lilliana, of course it was _normal and natural. _It was the will of His Most Brilliant that you called for and Our Lord answered your call. Pay no heed to the worries of others that do not understand our faith."

The aging morning lord began to walk away but Lilliana reached for him, pulling her hand away immediately when he gave a questioning look. Embarassment reddened her cheeks. "I'm sorry eminence Ormlyr. That's not really what I mean. I was looking over my journal and thinking back on my training and well . . .they might be right."

These words it seemed had finally piqued Keldath's interest. "Oh? How so?"

Lilliana fidgeted as she answered, uncomfortable in her own skin. "Turn undead _can_ turn the target into dust, but that takes time and usually is against no more than three opponents. When we faced off . . .when we faced off against Bassilus there well over two dozen undead there!"

Keldath's eyes widened at that number, more impressed than before that Lady Avalon had succeeded. "Lathander be praised! That _is_ a lot isn't it?" The priest seemed a little amused and Lilliana crinkled her nose at him briefly before he noticed.

"Indeed. Eminence Ormlyr, my companions defeated many of the vile creatures but we were overwhelmed. I wasn't sure what to do and before the battle was joined another cleric in my party and myself . . . " The half high-elf wasn't sure how safe it was to toss Viconia's name around so she guarded her words carefully. "Well, we had planned to perform a turn undead conjuration together, but she was engaged elsewhere as we fought. I had to perform the conjuration on my own and . . .it destroyed all the remaning undead and knocked those around me to the ground!"

Keldath motioned for Lilliana to lower her voice when her tone had drawn the attention of some of the dawn masters inside the temple. "I'm sorry." She looked at Keldath sheepishly and nodded his head paternally.

"It is alright my dear. This is unique indeed. An outward force of energy such as you described sounds like a 'destroy undead' conjuration to me. While that is a conjuration usually reserved for those of _my_ standing, it isn't as unusual as you might think that a lesser vessel was chosen for Lathander's power. I am sure that the beloved Father of Light realized what peril you were in and blessed you with a conjuration far beyond your _normal_ range. Thusly while you called for 'turn undead' He felt that you needed something more powerful than that."

Never having heard of such a thing before Lilliana was unsure but Keldath was a morning lord and had seen many more years of service for Lathander than Lilliana had. Surely he must be right. She sighed in relief and bowed before Keldath. "Thank you for easing my mind eminence Ormlyr."

The man smiled before excusing himself. "Not at all my dear."

* * *

Ajantis didn't like leaving Lady Avalon alone with that fetcher of a priest but she insisted that she needed to speak with him in private and so Ajantis had acquiesced. His trainee's sister kept looking over at the paladin and he nodded in her direction, causing the girl's cheeks to redden as she quickly looked away. The paladin thought that Imoen might have a crush on him but he wasn't sure what to do about that. Maybe he should ask her sister . . .if she ever came out of the temple that was.

When she finally did emerge into the waning light of the day there was a peaceful look on her face and apparently whatever Mayor Ormlyr had said to her had eased her mind of whatever had been ailing it. At least for that Ajantis was indebted to the overly pious and self-centered man. The Waterhavian hated seeing Lilliana bothered about anything.

"My apologies if I was in there too long. Perhaps we should go rest?" The girl looked over at Khalid and Jaheira who nodded. "So where to then? Feldepost's again?"

Imoen jumped up from her spot on the grass, shaking her red curls. "Uh-uh. There is a cute bard playing at the Jovial Juggler tonight. I wanna see him!"

Lilliana laughed as she walked over to her sister as the two hooked their arms together. "Alright, the Jovial Juggler it is then. How do you know he's cute anyway?"

Imoen smiled, very self assured. "Oh I saw him earlier. Introduced himself as Garrick . . . Hmm, so adorable and baby faced!" The girls fell into a fit of giggles as they were prone to do.

The two harpers walked behind the girls, falling far enough back so they could talk privately amongst themselves, though they intended to save the majority of their discussion for the safety and solitude of their room that night. Their whispered tones went unnoticed by the others.

"Are we so certain it was Lathander that gave her that conjuration? I'm troubled. She hasn't shown any outward signs yet and while that may be a good thing it might also mean that her changes are _inside_ where we can't notice them." Jaheira's violet eyes were gazing at nothing in particular as she spoke, maybe looking internally at her own worries.

A frown marred Khalid's handsome features and he glanced ahead to the girls they had taken in as their charges. "W-While training Imoen s-she hasn't said a-anything about her s-sister that w-would make me t-think her h-heritage is c-coming to bear. You c-could be right m-my d-dear, so we m-must remain m-more vigilant t-than n-normal. Watch f-for a-alterations in her p-personality."

Jaheira nodded. "Yes I agree. I just wish there was a guide book for this sort of thing."

Khalid smiled at his wife, rubbing her shoulder. "H-how to deal with a god c-child without r-ripping your h-hair out p-perhaps?"

Jaheira smiled back and kissed her husband. "Maybe we'll write one ourselves."

* * *

Garrick was indeed the name of the bard performing at the inn known as the Jovial Juggler. The environment wasn't as high toned as that of Feldeposts and from the look on Lilliana's face Imoen knew her sister didn't like this place as much. The half high-elf had been raised in the same environment as Imoen.

There had been tasks for Lilliana to keep her humbled and her existence had been a simple one. Still Imoen always got a sense of nobility from Gorion and Lilliana Avalon both, an air that they probably hadn't noticed. Imoen was saddened when she thought that her sister would likely never get the noble life that she was better suited for.

Lilliana smiled nonetheless, nodding when Imoen said she was going to get a table close to the stage. The upbeat human waved at the young bard who winked back and Imoen giggled girlishly before taking her seat. The bard was playing a lively tune on what Lilliana recognized as a lyre, while an overdressed peacock of a woman (introduced to audience as the 'Extraordinary Silke') stood next to him, singing in tune with the music. The U shape of the harp-like instrument seemed to fit in the auburn haired young man's hands as if made for them and his bright blue eyes sparkled with enjoyment of his own performance.

The price for a room was three coins less than at Feldepost's Inn. Lilliana just hoped that didn't mean they would have to deal with a rowdier crowd. A yelling man hollered for another ale from a serving wench two tables from their own and the half high-elf grimaced.

Ajantis graciously volunteered to organize the aquisiton for the group's rooms for the night. One for the Harpers, one for himself and one for Imoen, Lilliana and Viconia. Those sleeping arrangements seemed to have worked out well so far and he saw no need to ask that they be changed and no one else had voiced any concerns. Viconia had retired early, claiming she had a headache, and Ajantis watched from the corner of his eye as she made her way upstairs as he stayed at the bar.

Spirits at the Jovial Juggler were stronger than at the other inns he had stayed at during his time in the Sword Coast and he reminded himself not to over indulge. The last thing the paladin needed when the group took to the road tomorrow morning was a hangover. He smiled as he glanced towards the sisters, dancing together in a rapid jig to the music. Even the Harpers seemed a little more lively than normal, swaying close together and they held one another.

The music changed from something lively to a tune that was more slow and the sisters took their seat again, watching as Khalid and Jaheira still moved across the dance floor. Lyrics about finding that one soul mate and never letting them go flowed from between the songstress red painted lips.

Imoen ordered a Berduskan wine that was a little too much for her and she coughed over the first sip, laughing at herself into her glass as she took another drink. Lilliana went for something a little smoother but even that had a bite that she was unaccustomed to. _The drinks here were strong!_

"Perhaps a red fire wine would suit the lady better. It would be a fine match to your rich features." A whispery voice came from above the girl's heads and they both looked up to find a tall thin man staring down at them with nearly black eyes, his thick blue-black hair framing his pale face neatly. His piercing features were quite attractive if not a little edgy and Lilliana felt herself blushing under his gaze.

"Fire wine sounds like something a fair bit of biting and I don't know if I'd like it." She responded trying to match his stare.

He smiled and some of the fierceness of his appearance melted. "I'll tell you what, share a dance with me fair lady and I'll order you a glass, so you may try it." The tall man extended an arm for Lilliana to take. "My name is Aladres, and I would very much like your company out on the floor, if you deign to share my arms tonight."

The half high-elf couldn't help the deep blush that came to her cheeks, growing worse when her sister winked at her over the rim of her glass. "Al . . .Alright." She smiled shyly and rose from her seat. "Lilliana."

She introduced herself simply and the man nodded. "A lovely name for a lovely lady."

She was pulled slowly out to the dance floor, her simple tunic brushing against the tall man's clothes. A soft song required close dancing and Lilliana nervously placed her hands on her dance partner's shoulders as he placed his own against the small of her back. The height difference wasn't as much as it would have been with someone like Ajantis and this man worked well with it. Enough so that Lilliana barely noticed her lack of stature.

Her cheek was pressed gently against the collar of his shirt and she could feel him breathing against her face, sending a few stray tendrils of her hair to tickle against her ear. "You smell wonderful . . .lavender?" That whispering voice inquired and it sent small shivers up Lilliana's spine though she wasn't certain as to why.

"Yes. I use it for powder." The man that had introduced himself as Aladres pulled back to look at her.

"I doubt anyone has ever told you how wonderful you are but your soul is delicious to me."

_Her soul?_ Lilliana didn't know what to say to such an odd thing and she could do nothing but look up at him curiously. "I could devour those emerald orbs of yours." His deep eyes were staring her down now.

The half high-elf was starting to feel more than a little uncomfortable and was pulling away. "Uh, thank you for the dance sir, but I fear that I must return to my companions." His grip around her tightened, his face inches from hers.

"One kiss before departing?" It seemed more like a command than a question and Lilliana turned her face.

"Oh no I don't think that would appropriate sir. Please, let me go."

He was about to say something else but the voice of another interrupted him. "I believe the dance is over."

Lilliana recognized the Shilmistan accent immediately and smiled as the strange man let her go. "Master Alieradon!" She went to stand next to the wood elf as they watched the tall black haired man.

He smiled, a look that appeared far more creepy to Lilliana than it had before. "I didn't realize there was already a rooster in the hen house. My apologies. I take my leave of you Miss Lilliana. Please, enjoy the rest of your evening." He bowed before leaving, his form blending quickly into the crowd at the Jovial Juggler.

"Thank you for that intervention. I'm sure he would have left soon but still . . .you have a good sense of timing." Lilliana smiled up at Kivan warmly, finding that she was happy to see him again though from the expression on _his_ face she wasn't sure the feeling was mutual.

"Yes and _you_ have a bad habit of getting into situations were you need help . . . still. I was hoping time amongst a group would assuage you of some of that."

Lilliana's smile turned into a glower. "Well excuse me for not being as immediately untrusting as yourself. He would have seemed harmless enough to _anyone_ and he probably just ingested too much spirits anyway. I see that my happiness at your arrival here was premature and undeserved. Pardon me _Master Alieradon_."

She thought of herself as well mannered but the wood elf ranger's insinuations raised in her an ire she was unaccustomed to. There had been genuine happiness at seeing him again until he insulted her. _Why did he have to be that way?!_ Lilliana stopped dead in her tracks when she heard his deep laughter.

"Please, Lilliana, stop. You allow yourself to be riled far too easily."

"I don't see anything to laugh about!" The half high-elf had both arms crossed over her chest defiantly, trying her best to glare at laughing wood elf.

Kivan nodded and desisted, though Lilliana could swear there was still the slightest hint of a grin on his angular face. "It's simply that you come across as fairly docile, but just an observation from me and you go off your hinges. I'd be lying if it said it wasn't amusing. You barely know me and to be honest _nothing_ I say should get to you at all, be it ill or good."

Even the reprimanding Jaheira was easier to talk to than the ranger. At least the arguments with Jaheira were normally caused by a difference of opinion, but with Kivan it was more an issue of Lilliana being uncomfortable with her faults spoken of so plainly. She was honest enough to admit that to herself. Lilliana sighed and relaxed her arms.

"I don't know what to make of you, and it's doubtless that I would still not know even if were we lifelong friends. You have come to my rescue at least twice and I think we can count you helping my other companions to find me in the woods as such too. The first time you actually seemed . . . nice . . .afterwards, but in the forest and just now you first aided me and then griped that it was my fault that you had to."

Kivan watched her face as she talked, how she crinkled her nose, moved her eyes, and motioned with her hands as spoke. Talking with her body. It reminded him of someone gone from his life now and the flicker of sadness passed across his brown-green eyes before he answered her.

"I won't enable you to continue on a path that would lead you to need saving. It isn't that I feel put upon by coming to the aid of one that needs it, it is more that _you_ shouldn't need it. You should be more than capable of taking care of yourself, you _have_ to be if you want to survive. You can't depend on anyone but yourself."

Green eyes narrowed and Lilliana shook her head. "No . . . no I don't believe that is true. Everyone should have someone to depend on. Friends that they count on, just as those friends count on them Don't _you_ have anyone that you can have faith in to be there when you need them?" She had lowered her voice, admitting yet again that part of what he said was true. She _did_ allow herself to become riled over his words far too easily.

A dark look she had seen before came into his face and he brushed past her with a brief "No." before heading to the bar. Lilliana watched him go, not with anger at his abrupt departure this time, but with melancholy.

There was something he buried inside that had hurt him badly and hurt him still. Lilliana understood deep pain like that but then she had Lathander and her companions to keep her from falling into a hole of depression. From what Kivan said and how he acted it seemed that he had neither a friend or a diety to believe in. It made the half high-elf feel very sad for him and for the first time since she had met him she thought she might have found one puzzle piece to the ranger's behavior. He didn't want a companion right now and Lilliana wouldn't force her company on him, but she _would_ pray to Lathander to extend his watch over one lonely wood-elf.

With one last heavy sigh Lilliana made her way back to her table, watching out for her 'dance partner' warily. Now that she thought about it heavy drinking _did_ seem like the most obvious explanation to the dark eyed man's eerie demeanor, but that didn't mean that she was ready for a repeat performance.

Girlish giggles that could only belong to one person reached her ears, before her sister's form reached her eyes. Speaking with Kivan had drawn Lilliana's attention away from all else, including the fact that a different bard had taken stage. That fact became obvious when she saw the one named Garrick sitting in her former seat, leaning across the table close to the blushing Imoen.

"I could write a song about your beauty. The brightest sunrise would cry in jealousy to look upon those brilliant red golden curls, framing a face that makes angels sing and turns nymphs green with envy." His words were as young as his face, and tinged with what sounded like the same kind of accent Ajantis spoke with. Garrick must be Waterhavian.

Lilliana tried not to snort at his over-romanticized words. Imoen however was drinking it in as she fanned her reddening face with the hand that Garrick wasn't holding.

"Oh . . I . . .I'm not _that_ pretty." The human said, nervousness making her words crack. The newly named dawn mistress didn't want to interrupt but she had to before the bard came up with something worse.

"Ahem. I see you were entertained while I was away. Good greetings to you sir." She smiled kindly at both her sister and the bard. While the young man's poetic skills were very much over the top it was nice to see her sister being admired. It brought back pleasant memories.

The lovely smile on Imoen's cherubic facade never failed to raise Lilliana's own spirits and she amended then and there that if none of her companions had caught sight of the scene between her and the tall man that she wouldn't mention it. If the cleric had any say in it she would never be the cause of a frown on her sister's face.

Two pairs of eyes looked up at Lilliana. Garrick seemed perturbed at being interrupted in his flirting endeavors and Imoen seemed embarrassed. The bard spoke first. "It was my pleasure to entertain such a beautiful lady." His blue gaze traveled back to Imoen who bit her bottom lip shyly.

"Oh, hi! Sir Garrick this is Lilliana, my sister. Lilliana, this is Sir Garrick. He's a good poet too, not just a musician . . and he writes his own stuff! Can ya believe that Lil?"

The half high-elf didn't say what she was thinking, mostly where the 'Sir' in his name had come from. "Indeed? That is impressive. Your music tonight _was_ very good. The songstress you had with you seemed well matched to the tune as well."

Garrick nodded, his reddish brown hair brushed neatly back from his face. "Yes. Madame Silke is quite the musical thespian . . .though I'm sure sweet Imoen could put her to shame." He all but batted his eyelashes and with both her sister's and the bard's attention on one another Lilliana could roll her eyes without getting caught.

_That's not very nice at all!_ She reprimanded herself silently and excused herself to retire for the night, leaving the two humans to moon over one another.

* * *

Nimbul watched the wood elf stalk off towards the bar and continued to watch as the elf went up to his room. This was the same one that had saved Lilliana from the less than successful Shank back at Candlekeep. Why was he around again? He must have been following Lilliana. Nimbul didn't like it, not at all.

Perhaps it had been foolish for Nimbul to come so close to his lady but he couldn't help himself and the touch of her skin and scent of her hair had nearly driven him mad. He had been enjoying a nice dance with his lady, enjoying her building worry when he had gotten too close to her. Then _he_ had shown up. The empathic talents of the assassin hadn't gotten any sense from the elf's aura that suggested he was a romantic rival but Nimbul still didn't want to risk it.

To kill the wood elf tonight as he slept would be enjoyable but given Lilliana's continued worry over their little dance it could draw suspicion. However Nimbul amended that he would have to watch out for the ranger and remove him from the equation if he needed to. Maybe he could even kill the wood elf in front of his flower before he claimed her for his own. The elf's dying breaths would be sweet music to play in the background. A dark smile crossed Nimbul's pale features as he entertained that thought.

* * *

Imoen had talked late into the night with Garrick, blushingly refusing his offer to accompany her to her quarters. When morning came he had been down in the main lobby, missing the songstress that had been with him on stage the evening previous. The bard must have gone shopping that morning for when Imoen came down the stairs he presented her with a pink rose. It came with a kiss to her hand and a promise that Garrick would keep her lovely face fresh in his memory.

The red headed human was still smiling wistfully when the rest of her companions began to get ready for their trip south. Lilliana sat on a cushioned bench near the front doors, her chin in folded palms. She pretended like she was fine but Imoen knew there was something bothering her sister behind those emerald eyes. The human thief felt guilty that she hadn't spoken to her last night, but by the time Imoen had gone to the room she shared with Lilliana and Viconia it had been late. Lilliana had been sleeping for some time by then.

A hooded figure was in the room with them and he kept looking over at her sister. Imoen dismissed him as just another traveller that had chosen the Jovial Juggler as his resting place for the night . . Until he got up and walked towards Lilliana. Imoen quickly rose from her seat, ready to defend her sister if she needed to.

"Excuse me Lilliana . . but I . . I would like to speak with you if I may." The deep voice struck Imoen's memory and her spring green eyes went wide when the hood was removed from the elf's face. It was the wood elf that had been with Ajantis, Jaheira and Khalid after the girls had escaped from the bandit camp.

Lilliana looked up, studying the face in front of her and finally stood. "Yes, I'd like to speak with you as well." The half high-elf smiled gently over at her sister, nodding that she would be okay on her own. Imoen took her seat again but watched the pair with hawk eyes as they crossed the room to one secluded corner.

"About last night . . " They both started at the same time. A perplexed look was on Kivan's face as Lilliana laughed. "Ah, sorry, you first." She motioned for the wood elf to continue.

"Yes, well last evening I was moody. I didn't meant to take it out on you and while I did mean some of what I said it wasn't necessary for me to say it like I did. I apologize."

That was something Lilliana doubted he ever did much and the surprise was evident in her eyes. "Oh! Well . . I thank you. I too apologize for allowing myself to get angry over a few simple words. My father would be ashamed of my behavior. Perhaps I could buy you some breakfast as a token of good will?" She suggested gently but Kivan shook his head. Lilliana thought she understood.

"Of course, you are probably in a hurry to get going again. Well I won't keep you. Have a good journey Master Alieradon." Before she left Kivan called out to her softly.

"No, actually I have _another_ token of good will in mind. A fair bit different than breakfast." Lilliana was intrigued by his words and stayed to hear him out.

"I meant what I said that you should know how to save yourself but I didn't make any offer to aid you with that. Much like a trainer telling their trainee that they need to have better aim without showing them how it's done. I wish to rectify that and would offer you my services as your trainer, if you will have me." He tried a smile out on his face.

Lilliana smiled back, but shook her head. "As much as I appreciate the offer I actually already have a trainer." She pointed at Ajantis, who was busy polishing his armor. Kivan stood there, for the first time unsure of what to say next. Lilliana seemed to realise this and made a suggestion to break the uneasy silence between them.

"However my sister Imoen, she fancies the bow and I'm told wood elves are inherently good at archery. From what little I've seen of your skills that appears to be true. Khalid has been training her in combat with her short sword and in _some _archery techniques but perhaps you could take that one step further and take her in hand?"

The wood elf ranger thought it over before finally nodding. "That seems acceptable, but are you certain that she would wish to be trained?"

Lilliana nodded. "I'm her sister, of course I'm sure and if she doesn't than at least we tried."

Kivan felt a little uncomfortable as the focus of the half high-elf's intense stare but he smiled back. "That does mean that I will have to travel with you for a time." Lilliana nodded though there was a question itching at the back of her mind.

"I must discuss it with the others but I'm certain that you will be a welcome addition to our mixed bag." The description of the wide variance in her companions brought an amused grin to her child-like face. "However, won't that hamper your efforts at hunting down these bandits of yours.?"

The bandits had been moving so rapidly lately that Kivan had found himself hard pressed to follow and perhaps traveling in a group would provide a target for the bandits to attack, given their preference for stealing weapons. "Perhaps a break is in order. Ah, does the . . Forsaken one still share your company?"

Green eyes flashed briefly with irrtation but Lilliana nodded. "Yes, _Viconia _is still in our room performing her morning prayers. She's not as bad as most would say she is and if you travel with us you need to get used to her, because I like her. Whether you think that is foolish or not. Also, you are going to have to start calling her by her name."

She hoped her words hadn't changed the wood elf's mind about traveling with them, but she wouldn't abandon one companion for the sake of another's comfort. Finally he nodded though Lillianna was certain he wasn't happy about it. "Good then. Come, let's speak with the group."


	7. Chapter Six: Ghost Lights

_**Disclaimer:**_

_"Forgotten Realms: Baldur's Gate" belongs to Bioware, TSR, and Black Isle Studios. Lilliana is mine and situations that you don't recognize from the game are mine, all other material and inspiration for my material is under copyright by the above named. Additional Forgotten Realms material included in this story but not in the game belongs to Wizards of the Coast._

_**Words From the Author:**_

_Well FINALLY I finished this chapter. There are a lot of battle scenes happening here. Nothing massive of course but needless to say I find battle scenes very time consuming, though still easier than romance. I thank you for staying with me through it all dear readers. I fully intend to allow the companions to make it to Nashkel in the next chapter, so for anyone out there wondering when in the Nine Hells they are going to get to town, well, soon enough. Though I can't say that it means they will be going to the Nashkel mines right away. I've heard a rumor there is a crazy giant who carries some kind of rodent around with him and claims that he's 'lost his witch' so I might have to look into that during the next chapter ;)_

_In this chapter you have a nice little bit of action, Lilliana seems to have loosened up and for now has stopped calling everyone 'master' and 'mistress' That probably won't stick once she makes it back to civilization. You get to see a neat battle practice move, and the sisters are proving to be more proficient as days go by. You get to help a dead teacher and get a taste of arachnophobia. There also is a shocking revelation from Viconia and you get your first glimpse of a temple of Sarevok's REAL father. This chapter is going to be fun, so sit back, get a nice cup of java and without further ado I present CHAPTER SIX._

_As always dear readers thank you for joining Lilliana on her journey._

* * *

_**Chapter Six:**_

_**Ghost Lights**_

* * *

**L**uck wasn't with them after the companions left Beregost. They had run afoul of several groups of bandits south of town and it seemed to be more hobgoblins than humans. Jaheira and Khalid didn't want to follow the road but wandering off into the wilderness had caused so many violent confrontations that they were forced to stay on the winding dirt track just so they had a better view, unobstructed by trees, of the area around them. The Harpers remained vigilant of the many ruins scattered in this area, though many were far from the road.

The wilderness that ran at both sides of the road (little more than wheel ruts) to Nashkel shifted between thick copses of trees, towering slabs of rock that gave way to mountains in the distance and flat plateaus marked by the remnants of ancient settlements. This landscape proved dangerous when it revealed groups of bandits hidden amongst the natural shelters of the Sword Coast. Lilliana remembered little from her trip with her father all those years ago but it seemed that the environment had looked a little more appealing and less apprehensive then.

A full week had passed on their journey and Lilliana and Imoen had inquired of Jaheira many times about how long it would take to get to Nashkel. The druid welcomed the mornings where Khalid and Ajantis kept the two girls busy with training.

Viconia had taken an interest in giving Lilliana some 'tips' on more graceful movement (not to mention nights spent teaching Lilliana the drow silent hand code) and Kivan had gone in more depth with Imoen's archery. That left the druid able to enjoy some semi-silent alone time. She would watch the girls on occasion, unwilling to admit that her observations were brought about by genuine regard for the two.

Their abilities in battle got increasingly better. Lilliana now trained with Ajantis to improve her combat skills with _two_ war hammers and she trained with Viconia to improve her conjuration techniques and also to pick up some more complicated movements _with_ those war hammers. Imoen was able to defeat the illusions Khalid had Jaheira conjure without having to dumb them down for her and Kivan's surprisingly patient training had allowed the human girl to become more accurate with her archery. She was becoming a deadly shot and that was with a rather lightly enchanted short bow. Jaheira could only imagine the damage Imoen could do with a better weapon. The sisters were slowly developing into quite the boon to the group.

One morning had proven particularly interesting. The druid was awoken by cries from Imoen, though they hadn't sounded distressed. Khalid and herself had rushed from their small tent to find the sprightly red head jumping around her sister excitedly.

"Wow! Ker POW! What's it called?!"

Lilliana smiled shyly, chewing the corner of her bottom lip as she was wont to do when she was embarrassed "Viconia showed me how to do it . .I don't think it has a name."

The drow spoke from somewhere off to the side and Jaheira followed her voice to where the petite Shar priestess stood against a tree. "No name yet and she'll need a lot more work before it comes off flawless." That was a typical response.

Imoen pouted back, still preening over her sister. "So _you_ say! _I_ say she looked great." The conversation devolved into an argument between the human and the drow from there, with Lilliana trying to keep the peace. Finally the quarrelling was over and the training continued.

"Let's go through it again Lilliana." Viconia instructed, moving to show the Lathanite what posture she _should_ take. "Let your body use it's own weight to bring you down. For now just start on the execution. We will cover more precise landing techniques later when you've mastered the initial rise."

_Landing? Rise? What on 'Toril were they doing? Surely Viconia isn't trying to teach Lilliana levitation. Wouldn't the drow's own levitation abilities fled her with as many years on the surface as she has had? _Jaheira asked herself those questions and more in her head as Khalid watched intently, his wife at his side.

Lilliana moved back to a small 'X' that Viconia had marked in the dirt. She positioned both war hammers in front of her and Khalid was increasingly dumbfounded at the ease in which her small frame now hoisted them. Ajantis' strength training was paying off agreeably with the girl. The small muscles that bulged under Lilliana's tightening biceps were proof of that. Each passing day Lilliana and Imoen both were starting to look less like house kept girls and more like young adventuring ladies.

The booted feet of the dawn mistress barely seemed to touch the ground as she propelled herself forward and Jaheira cocked an eyebrow at the half high-elf's movement, taking notice that there was something different about it. Finally she realized what it was. Instead of her heels touching the ground first and followed by her toes it was her toes that hit the ground followed by her heels. The 'toe-heel' way that the drow were said to move.

Lilliana's face was devoid of triviality, tightened seriously as the heads of both her war hammers bore down into the earth. Her small hands were wrapped around the heads of the handles, carefully avoiding the pointed ends, as she pushed herself up off the ground. The war hammers were used as balancing beams as Lilliana hurdled herself over them. Her lithe frame hung upside down for mere seconds, hands still on the heads of her hammers, as she rapidly spiraled herself in a mid-air somersault and brought her body around to face the same way that she had been _before_ she launched herself in the air. Lilliana's hands had never left her war hammers, and before her feet ever touched the ground, the momentum of her landing allowed her to bring them down in a massive strike against the earth.

"B-By S-Silvanus!" Khalid's mouth was agape and Jaheira was struck speechless.

Imoen's excited laughter and clapping brought Khalid and Jaheira out of their awe. Finally Viconia, Lilliana and Imoen noticed they were being watched. The Harpers had been joined in their audience by Kivan and Ajantis who didn't seem quite sure of what they had just seen.

The red headed human smiled at Khalid. "You _gotta_ show me how to do something like _that_ Khalid!" Lilliana laughed with her sister, giddy with her success. She turned a shy eye on Viconia who was nodding her head and trying to hide her smile.

"Not bad . . .Well, it wasn't as bad as the first time at least."

Imoen snorted. "Is that your way of saying 'well done' Vicky?" Viconia glared at the human, not even bothering anymore to remind her that her name wasn't Vicky. It did no good anyway.

Lilliana dropped her hammers and hugged the surprised drow tightly. Viconia wasn't sure what to do and stood there limply. 'Thank you my friend! I promise to work on it until I get it right." Viconia snarled and pulled away.

"You can thank me by not _ever_ hugging me again." Lilliana looked hurt but shrugged it off with a simple 'okay' and went over to her sister who was only too happy to give her a congratulatory embrace. The day had then unfolded into a normal routine, but the memory still stuck with Jaheira as they traveled.

* * *

**22'nd of Mirtul**

The current day brought a heavy fog and the group could only see about seven foot lengths around them. It put everyone on edge and made it impossible to make out what was lurking beyond the scope of their vision, past the edges of the thick mist. The elf kind weren't aided by their infravision either; the condensation making it impossible to see anything but a clammy cold.

"We just keep going over the same area of land again and again! We aren't getting anywhere!" Viconia had finally had enough and turned to confront the married half elves who were acting as navigators on the trip.

Ajantis had that same feeling but he didn't see how that could be. Neither did their new companion. Kivan shook his head before Jaheira could respond to the drow.

"No, we are following the road. Unless the road loops continuously what you suggest is impossible."

Viconia locked her red eyes fiercely on the wood elf, making as if she was going to draw her mace out but Lilliana stepped in front of her. "Look, I too feel oddly about our direction. I think we all do." Lilliana continued, pulling a compass from her pocket. "And it isn't just me." She placed the needlepoint compass out for everyone to see, and they watched as the small bronze arrow spun in circles around the marked metal dial. "Not even the equipment knows where we are."

Imoen shivered and rubbed her arms, even though they were covered with a cloak. The fog was chilly, unnatural for this time of year when it should have felt more muggy than anything. A slight film was forming over her skin and she hated the thought of having a fishy smell all over her. "There is something most unnatural here . . and I want no part of it!" The human girl cried out as Jaheira fixed both sisters with a fed up glare.

"_You two_! Honestly, it's just a little fog. Lilliana, your compass is likely broken!" The druid spoke out adamantly but truthfully she too felt on edge. "If we stay on the road we will reach Nashkel and then you girls will laugh at yourselves over how scared you became."

There really wasn't anything to do _but_ continue; the fog made it unwise to wander off the marked wagon wheel ruts. The sisters clung to each other tightly, not caring if everyone else thought they were being ridiculous or not.

It seemed like hours upon hours that they had walked and it was hard to even tell what time of day it was. Considering how long they must have been traveling since that morning it had to be getting close to sundown.

Lilliana shuddered at the thought of walking through the fog at night. Her head rose up as she spotted small glowing dots in the distance through the smog and her face brightened. "Nashkel!" She spoke out excitedly.

Jaheira and Khalid shared a look, both shaking their heads. "No, if we were that close we would already be to the bridge that leads into town."

The half high-elf looked confused. "Another town then? I don't seem to remember reading about any other settlement around here besides Gullykin, the halfing village, and that's a ways off from Nashkel and the road . . . isn't it?"

Kivan had a keen ranger's sense in addition to those he had been born with as an elf and right now those senses felt ill at ease. There was something not quite right going on in this area. There were no sounds since the fog had engulfed them. No sounds of wildlife and not even the noise of the wind moving though the trees. It was a dead silence.

The lights that shone through the fog also seemed unnatural and dead, as if they were just hanging in mid air. If he didn't know better he would think that the far off glow was . . .

"Ghost lights." Viconia remarked, her face serious as her train of thought seemed to follow Kivan's. "They look like ghost lights."

"Why must you say things like that to the ladies?! You know they're scared!" Ajantis growled, glowering angrily down at the drow.

Part of her was wondering why he insisted upon calling only Imoen and Lilliana 'the ladies' when the half breed and herself were both female as well. She could guess that she knew where _they_ stood in the paladin's mind. "So I shouldn't speak the truth then male?!" Viconia hissed back.

Imoen pouted but forced herself to look brave. "I-I'm fine guys . . .really."

Lilliana nodded, her green eyes wide with fright and unmatched to her forced smile. "Yes. I am alright as well." It didn't need to be said that they were bad liars, it was painfully obvious.

Kivan was kneeling down by the road, his hands feeling out what his eyes couldn't see through the layer of ground fog. "Well, we must be near _something_. The road has gone from a dirt wagon path to a cobbled trail." His rough voice, so calm, made Lilliana relax a little but what he said only furthered confused her. _Where were they that they would see ghost lights?_

Everyone knew what caused ghost lights but their true source was something of an ongoing argument between scholars. Sometimes they were also called Will-o-Wisps by the different races of surface elves. They were linked to areas where death on a large scale had occurred. Some said they were the lost souls of those killed who were too attached to their fallen bodies to leave the area of their demise. Others said they were creatures, ethereal sprites of some kind, that were drawn to areas of fatalities especially when those losses were magic related.

Lilliana wasn't sure which she believed but it evened out to still mean that if they _were_ ghost lights that the group was near an area heavy with death and _that_ made the cleric supremely uncomfortable. She silently prayed to Lathander to help give her the nerve to remain serene enough to make it to Nashkel.

Their fight with Bassilus had caused them all to confront a great number of undead, but somehow they weren't as fear-provoking as Lilliana had assumed they would be. At first she thought that it was the virtuous prudence of Lathander against such foul beings that had permitted her to feel far less dread than she had anticipated. Time had given her the opportunity to think over that and the half high-elf had come to the deduction that it was something else.

Bassilus had killed all those undead himself and then raised their bodies, making them what they were with a conjuration. They acted out of an unnatural attachment to their master. More like thralls than anything else. _True_ undead, those that were not conjured, had a different presence and one that was lead by no one. The young dawn mistress found that those thoughts made her uneasy.

A gasp of air, like pressure being released from an old sealed canister, made her jump and broke the calm she had fought to achieve. Imoen's arms tightened around her and Lilliana responded in kind. "What was _that_?!"

Kivan placed an arm out in front of the girls, as if to keep them from investigating the noise, as he took lead of the group. "I don't know. Stay here."

Lilliana wanted to reach out and grab him, to tell him to stay but she was too afraid to move from her sister's tight grasp. Several moments passed, the group waiting for their only natural scout to return. Finally his form came back from the fog and Lilliana breathed out a deep sigh of relief. His face was as somber as always but there was something in his brown-green eyes that belied a note of worry in his thoughts.

"What is it darthiir, what did you find?" Viconia asked and he surprisingly answered without a fuss.

"I was unable to locate a specific source for the noise we all heard, but we are definitely near something; ruins. My best guess is that we've wandered onto the former site of the Ulcaster School of Magic. It would explain the ghost lights."

Jaheira spoke up, her voice the calmest of the group. "It's getting dark and none of us can see much. It would be folly to continue moving. Camping near any kind of ruins would not be my first choice, but there is little else to do. With all this condensation it would be nigh on impossible to find the main road. We'll have to wait until it thins."

Lilliana's already fair face paled into a nearly colorless shade. "S-Stay? H-Here?" Jaheira watched her for a time before responding.

"I can tell you that we aren't likely to find any other form of shelter during the night and the fog couldn't be realistically expected to lift until morning." There were more than a few groans of protest but eventually everyone agreed, albeit reluctantly, and they made camp.

The ghost lights grew brighter as the skies got darker. Lilliana stared at them, fidgeting in her bed roll as her back was pressed against a ruined stone column. She shivered and pushed herself farther down into her bedding until only her head was showing from the edge of the thick cotton. Imoen reached across the small space that separated them and patted her sister's hand where it was confined in the bed roll.

"We'll be okay. Kivan says there's no wanderin' undead in this area, and he's really smart about those things, ya know?"

Lilliana smiled gratefully for any kind of conversation and looked over at her sister. "How is your training going?"

Kivan had also suggested that they set no fire that night so they wouldn't attract anything to their small camp. In the foggy darkness it was hard to make out her sister's face but Lilliana didn't need any light to know that Imoen was smiling.

"Oh it's good. He's great! Really. Ya should see him Lil! I think he could shoot a sand spider in the desert! I guess it helps that he's a wood elf, but . . Just wow! I wish I could shoot like that."

Arachnophobic as she was the young cleric shuddered at the thought of a spider of any kind before she spoke. "You will shoot like that soon enough, I am certain and I'm glad for it. Maybe now we'll have a better chance of a good supper with you, Kivan and Khalid hunting for the group."

Imoen laughed quietly in the dark, letting go of her sister's hand and rolled over to tuck herself into her own bed roll. "Yeah, I've done had enough of Jaheira's porridge. Night Lil."

Lilliana wished her sister a good night and covered her head with the blanket, already knowing she would get no sleep.

* * *

The wood elf ranger that kept watch over the group that night knew well the history of the ruins around them. He was no book scholar like the monks Lilliana had grown up with but as a ranger he knew the lands and the stories of the people that lived upon them.

It had been the Year of the Keening Gale, 1050, when a famed conjurer by the name of Mizzen Ulcaster had founded a school of magic, the greatest of schools of it's time. Young mages wishing to improve their craft begged entrance to learn from the arch mages that taught there.

The school had a fair of sorts every year to show off the talents of their best students. One day they were practicing for their fair when something went horribly wrong. Some kind of massive magical explosion that turned sprawling structure into rubble and killed everyone there. The rumble had been felt as far north as Ulgoth's Beard, or so the local legends said. Kivan rather doubted that last tale, though to look at the place now it didn't seem half as unlikely as it had before.

Even in the fog he could see slabs of wall sitting on the earth like the massive bones of a long dead monster. A few sections had collapsed onto the ground, chunks breaking apart and now covered by long grass. The milky white condensation of the fog seemed to hug the ruins, curling around what was left of the structure like a long absent friend glad to be reunited with their companion.

The group had made camp near what remained of a columned walkway, the arch above still miraculously intact. Whatever architects Ulcaster had secured all those many years ago they had been good ones. Even after such a massive explosion and centuries of environmental wear many pieces of the school were recognizable.

What worried the ranger about that was a stairwell he had found hidden under a fallen section of wall. There had been noises he could hear coming from within what was the Ulcaster basement. He was going to tell the group but after he had thought about it he didn't see the point. The girls would be scared of undead monsters, especially Lilliana, and it wasn't as if anyone would want to go exploring the ruins.

Kivan had thought to find quite a few undead here but it seemed the only unearthly evidence of the tragedy of the school were the ghost lights. Despite the fears of the young girls the lights had proved harmless, if not a little eerie. He knew that his report that the area was clear for now had allayed most of the group's anxiety but it didn't seem to be enough for the young Lathanite cleric.

All through the set up of their camp her eyes had darted back and forth as if expecting an attack from either flank at any moment. The wood elf was unfamiliar with attempts to ease another's spirit and made no further efforts in that regard. He figured her worry would work itself out in it's own time.

The wind made a noise that sounded like laughter and for a moment Kivan listened keenly just to be sure. The next gust proved to be nothing but wind. He shook his head, thinking that the fear of two unseasoned young girls might be getting to _him_.

After his beloved had died he had spent so long just on his own, forgetting about others, hardening himself against any kind of feeling. Now . . .it felt strange to have people around him again, not just commoners that he saw briefly on the few trips he had made to town, but real companions. Before he could catch himself he was smiling but when he realized it he shook his head again as if he could physically rid himself of foolish thoughts.

Another sound of laughter came from his left and his thoughts stopped dead. _That_ had most assuredly not been _just_ the wind. There was the slow sound of movement, but oddly disjointed. _Damn it to the Nine Hells!_ He spat angrily inside his head. The area had been clear and he should have been able to tell when something came near . . long before now. This was why it was unwise to have emotional attachments, they affected your mind and made you less effective.

He got up from his haunches, perching on what was left of some kind of statuary. Kivan knew better than to even bother surveying the area in the infravision spectrum. With the cold fog nothing would show up until it was right on top of him. He had been a practiced ranger long before his run in that had cost him his lady love, and afterward long months of solitude had only increased his skill. The wood elf let those talents lead him, relying on his other senses.

The air felt cooler than it did before and heavy. Chilled thick air had been with the group all day from the fog but this was different. Kivan drew his bow out silently, getting an arrow ready as he listened to the noises around him. Only one set of footsteps. He looked back to the group though they were too far away for him to pick out their heat signatures.

It was very doubtful that any of them were still up and even less so that they would be moving around. There was the smell of sulfur in the air, though faint, and that made Kivan very edgy. The only creatures he knew that smelled of sulfur were demonic in nature. Almost like a flash of lightning in his brain he put everything together. The cold air, the thickness of it, the almost human laughter and the sulfur smell. _Wraith!_ As experienced as the ranger was this was a foe he wasn't sure he could face on his own.

Carefully watching everything around him he moved achingly slow back towards where the others were camped. The nearest to him was Ajantis and the ranger touched his shoulder, immediately whispering for the paladin to be quiet.

"What is it?" Ajantis asked, murmuring.

"Wraith." Kivan responded simply. He didn't need to see anything to know that the human's eyes had probably widened at that thought. The group had accomplished members but so far they hadn't come up against anything quite so threatening. There had been histories where whole platoons of militia had been wiped out by only a few wraiths who came upon them as they slept.

"We should get Lilliana." The paladin recommended, tensing when he too heard the footsteps that were now drawing closer.

Kivan didn't like that idea. "What? No."

Ajantis had slept without his heavy armor and now regretted it, reaching for his two handed sword. "She's a child of Lathander. She is well suited to dealing with undead. Believe me, you didn't see her when we conquered the former owner of her lightning hammer."

Kivan shook his head but there was no time for arguing as Ajantis had already moved to wake up Lilliana. He had been quite startled when she spoke before the knight even got to her.

"I'm still up, what's wrong?" Her tone was of normal volume and Kivan and Ajantis both shushed her immediately, causing the inflections of her voice to become anxious as she repeated her query. "What's wrong?"

Ajantis had gotten out her war hammers for her already. "Kivan thinks it's a wraith. We are going to need your skills against the undead."

Lilliana wished she had the time to be pleased that her trainer thought highly enough of her to see her as a boon in battle. Cold laughter sent chills up her spine and she crawled out of her bedroll slowly. Her small hands were shaking as she closed them around the handles of her weapons. Like Ajantis she had removed her chain mail before bedding down and was scolding herself for it.

Any other night they both would have slept in at least some of their armor and any other night they wouldn't have been attacked while they were trying to sleep. _Tymora . . .some goddess of luck you are!_ Lilliana seethed in her head as she forced her hands to remain steady.

The blades of grass were covered in cold dew and the chill was almost painful as it seeped into the soft skin of Lilliana's bare feet. She was going to grasp for her leather boots but Kivan reached out a hand to stop her.

"No time. It comes."

She lifted her head to see a figure moving towards them through the fog, giving off a dim blue light that outlined it's jerky and disjointed movements. The surprise was evident on the faces of all three, who were expecting a wraith in human guise, when the creature proved to be a skeleton.

Covered in ancient armor and wielding a nasty flail it drew closer, laughing. Kivan wasn't sure _what_ this _thing_ was. Skeletons were incapable of speech or laughter and wraiths didn't usually take the form of other types of undead. _What was going on here? _

"Three little mortals, all in a row. Foolish to camp here methinks . ..yes. Hehehehe" It smiled from where it's skeletal face was visible behind an ancient and rusted iron helm. Red eyes gleamed in what should have been empty eye sockets. "I want the little girl first. Hehehehe!"

Lilliana took an involuntary step back at that, trying to steel her resolve . . .which proved hard to do in a nightgown. "Who are you? What do you want with us?" She tried, her voice oddly calm for the fear that was running through her veins.

Kivan and Ajantis both turned to look at her. _Conversation?! She must be out of her mind!_ The wood elf thought.

"Ichlych I was in life little girl. Came to visit my son here . . . BOOM! No more son, no more school, no more . . .me. I need all of you . . .I need your essence to feed my own."

There was a fear caused by his words but for the first time Lilliana was able to reflect it back as anger. She was frightened and unsure of herself but she also held much regard for her companions and she wasn't going to let this thing, whatever kind of undead creature it was, to threaten those she would call friends.

"My apologies but I rather think you are going to be without any kind of 'sustenance' this night . . .Ichlych." Her voice had a strength of tone that the two males standing beside her hadn't hear before.

Ajantis looked over at his trainee admiringly while Kivan only focused on the enemy at hand. There was no time for further words as the creature came forward to claim it's food. The paladin's massive sword was brought out to bay as Ichlych's flail came swinging towards the three, the monster laughing maniacally.

Kivan pulled a lightly curved long sword from the scabbard at his hip, moving around Ichlych in an impressive show of agility as the skeletal being focused on Ajantis. Kivan came at the thing with his sword aimed for the creature's semi-exposed neck, earning an angry howl and a spray of bone dust.

The others were starting to wake up, stirred by the sounds of battle but Lilliana ignored them and all else as she dug deep within her soul for her conjurations. "Cover me." She spoke to Ajantis and Kivan as she began the work of contacting her god's will. The normally mousy voice of the dawn mistress became lower and deeper with the oncoming energy of Lathander's answering call.

Imoen was the first to rouse fully and barely had time to let out a gasp of surprise before she was reaching for her short bow and arrows. Kivan had taught her how to add flames to normal arrows and she still had some left in the quiver that she had enchanted earlier in the week. Forcing herself to remain focused she drew the arrows out and readied them against the sturdy wood of her bow. "Come on, come on, come on." The thief whispered to herself as she focused on the armor covered skeleton her companions were fighting.

It was hard to keep her target in sight with Ajantis and Kivan constantly moving around it. "Come on, out of the way!" She seethed between clenched teeth, a vein in her forehead throbbing tensely. Finally there was an opening and she let loose, flames licking up from the arrow's pronged head as the air whistled around it. A small burst of fire compacted with the skeleton's frame and he howled turning his attention onto Imoen.

She hurriedly reached for another arrow, her nervous fingers dropping it on the ground. "Damn it!" Reaching through the wet grass she finally found it, though it was now slick with dew and she was having a hard time getting a handle on it. The skeleton advanced closer to her, Ajantis and Kivan hot on it's trail.

The wood elf ran through the grass, horrifyingly amazed at how fast this 'Ichlych' moved. The creature was possessed of an ungodly strength as well and even with Ajantis and himself both pummeling it the thing seemed barely fazed at all. Now Imoen had garnered it's attention and it was focused on reaching the human.

Kivan jumped on top of a fallen column using his momentum to flip his body at an angle that would bring him down on Ichlych. He impacted heavily with the skeleton and was momentarily triumphant when his adversary went to the ground, then Ichlych reached up and bit through his boot and into his ankle. Kivan screamed in pain and went down clutching at the wound. It felt like cold fire was eating it's way up his veins and he was soon paralyzed on the wet grass.

Ajantis saw his companion fall and let out a growl of rage throwing himself into the rising Ichlych with such force that it sent both of them careening into a wall of ruined stone. The paladin gave an 'oomph' as the heavy metal of Ichlych's shield slammed into his ribs and knocked the breath from his lungs. The creature had managed to wrestle free of the paladin's grasp and was preparing to bite into his flesh the way he had Kivan's.

Imoen watched all of this as she finally notched the next arrow. Ichlych turned his fleshless face and looked at the human, laughing as he sank his teeth into Ajantis neck. "NOOO!" Imoen screamed, letting the flaming arrow loose even as she got up and ran towards the creature with her short sword drawn, fury in her eyes that matched the red glowing glee of Ichlych's gaze. Ajantis was crumpled on the ground, gasping for air.

Imoen felt a surge of strength run through her body. In her enraged state she couldn't see Viconia, conjuring 'strength of one' from her concealed spot in the shadows. The drow's eyes were white as she focused on her connection to Shar. From behind her Khalid and Jaheira had risen and were on the move. Khalid already had his shield and long sword out, joining Imoen as she attacked Ichlych.

Jaheira called for bark skin to cover the armor-less form of Imoen as the skeletal creature turned it's attention to the human girl and Khalid. In her ears there was the roar of Jaheira's own blood as the druidic spell blast forth from her casting fingers, a glow of orange settling around Imoen. The girl's clothes, skin and hair began to retain the appearance of the bark of some great oak, though in her adrenaline rush she barely noticed.

The druid and the drow both had finished their casting calls and now drew their own weapons, hurriedly joining the other two and attacking Ichlych in a group before he could cause anymore damage. Jaheira barely had time to wonder where Lilliana was when she felt a shiver of energy surround her, the group and their quarry. Ichlych seemed surprised as his mouth hung open in a silent scream as a paralyzing force rippled over his body.

Ichlych had been held stiff by a conjuration. His form was finally unable to fight back as the group pounced on him. Even with the skeletal being held it still proved a long time before the bones of his body fell apart and burst into a shower of bone dust. An ethereal scream echoed up into the fog hazed night as the companions stared down at the pile of dust and equipment at their feet.

Lilliana was breathing heavily as she jogged over to her companions, intending to say something until she looked around to find Kivan and Ajantis missing. Her eyes found both of them, lying motionless on the ground. "No! No no no! This cannot be happening! Oh please Lathander, not again!" She cried and Viconia looked puzzled.

_Again?_

She fell to her knees beside Ajantis, relieved to find his pulse still racing. "Oh thank you, thank you!" The half high-elf whispered excitedly up into the sky, speaking to her god. "Quick! Hurry! Jaheira, Viconia . . .check on Kivan!" The half high-elf instructed as she ripped a piece of her night gown off and wadded it up to press it against the bite wound in Ajantis' neck.

Neither the drow or the druid bothered to complain about being ordered around by the slight girl. Jaheira made more of an effort at healing the prone Kivan than Viconia did but together they had managed to draw out whatever poison Ichlych had injected into the wood elf when he bit him.

Kivan moaned and tried to adjust his vision, his ankle still throbbing badly. He could hear the others talking and felt a cool hand on his brow. "Deheriana?" The wood elf croaked out, not entirely aware of what was going on.

The dark elf intonations of Viconia greeted him. "Pfft! Who is that? Some surfacer whore of yours?"

Kivan growled and went after the drow but in the haze of his vision he stumbled. "Do NOT speak of my beloved in such a way filth!" He shouted.

A sharp rap from a quarter staff on the back of his head made him yell in surprise. It was followed by the equally sharp tongue of Jaheira. "Enough! The both of you! Kivan, sit down, relax and shut up!" Viconia crossed her arms smugly until the druid's ire was turned on her. "And you . . .do us _all_ a favor and pretend you are mute! Now if you feel like doing your part as a member of this group then go over with Lilliana and make sure Ajantis is alright." Viconia gave a loud huff and stomped off.

Jaheira shook her head as she knelt down to treat the dazed Kivan. "The two of you behave like children. If you want to make the most of traveling with us it needs to stop and I expect more out of _you_." The half elf remarked as she set about dressing the wound. Kivan obediently removed his boot so she could get at the injury, his frequently stoic face marked with a scowl.

"You _expect_ more out of _me_? You aren't my mother Harper." He snapped back and Jaheira just smirked.

"That is true and thusly it would be nice if I wasn't forced into acting as such." Kivan didn't know what to say to that and just sat on the grass moodily.

"She says things, so waspishly . . .it angers me beyond reason." The wood elf explained though he wasn't sure why he felt he needed to. Jaheira nodded and slowly the haze of Kivan's vision cleared enough that he could see her.

"I know but Lilliana would call her friend and she does bring clerical skills to our group."

Kivan growled low in his throat but after taking a deep breath managed to calm whatever angry retort would have been forthcoming. "I do not understand why she keeps that forsaken around, how could she _like_ her?"

The druid Harper had thought about that very thing herself and still didn't have a conclusive answer. She gave Kivan the _only_ answer she had. "Lilliana has a big heart, maybe too big sometimes. Her reasons are her own but it does produce _some_ benefits." Jaheira finished with a smile. When Kivan looked at her curiously she continued. 'If music soothes the savage beast than Lilliana's voice soothes Viconia's attitude."

Kivan looked over, his vision fully returned, to see both clerics working their healing conjurations over the groaning Ajantis. Viconia was silent and serious as she worked, occasionally looking over at Lilliana who smiled at her in return. Jaheira was right and he couldn't believe he hadn't noticed it before.

Though Lilliana wasn't always spared Viconia's nasty words her presence did seem to make the drow behave at least slightly better. Kivan pondered why that was as he sat on the ground and watched them.

* * *

Their injuries and the healing that had followed had sent both Kivan and Ajantis into a deep slumber. It was morning when they woke up and they found that the fog had lifted and the camp had been picked up save the two bed rolls _they_ had been placed in.

Ajantis noticed Lilliana meditating on the grass and smiled at the sight she made. Her legs were curled under her and her palms were raised flat to the morning sky. She must have felt him watching her because her eyes opened and she waved, getting up to come over to him.

"Welcome back to the world of the living Lord Ilvastarr. How do you feel?"

He rubbed at his neck, wincing at it's tenderness. "Not _too_ bad. What _was_ that thing? Did any of you recognize it?" Lilliana nodded.

"Viconia knew. Something called a 'forsaken' At first I thought she was making some off hand comment about what Kivan likes to call _her_ but no. She was quite serious. I guess they are like a wraith but held to a more corporeal form. Drow priestesses summon them in battle. Their bite sends the cold of the grave into the hearts of their victims, finally killing them. You are lucky to be alive."

Ajantis grinned to lighten the mood that Lilliana's somber gaze had created. "Tymora finally came around for us. Let's just hope we don't run into another one . . . How did you finally defeat it?" The paladin asked, quite certain his talented trainee had something to do with it.

"I cast a 'hold undead' conjuration on it. I was not at all sure it would work but it did. I guess it made it easier to defeat the creature but it still took awhile. Jaheira, Khalid, Imoen and Viconia attacked it together and defeated it. If even one member of our company was gone . . .I do not know if we would have succeeded. So I echo your statement. If just _one_ of those things proved to be so difficult to destroy I too hope it is the last of it's kind we encounter. At least we got some equipment to sell. The flail it had was enchanted so Viconia got a new weapon out of the whole mess as well."

She turned her head to gaze at the drow who was now inspecting her new flail. "Come on then, I know we are all tired of the same breakfast we have had all week, but you need to eat." Lilliana commanded as she helped the knight to rise from his place on the ground.

Jaheira had made a pot of porridge and the two 'patients' finished it off. Ajantis hated the stuff but he wanted to start the day off right and told the druid it was delicious. If the roll of her eyes was any indication she didn't believe him but at least he tried. Kivan wasn't nearly as generous.

"You should learn how to cook something other than porridge. I'd rather eat moss covered bark than _this_ slop every morning."

Lilliana shot him a withered look. "Kivan!"

Jaheira didn't seem too offended though, favoring the wood elf with an amused smirk. "Go right ahead, I'm sure with all your time spent as a forest hermit and connoisseur that you could tell us the subtle differences of maple versus oak."

Imoen snorted against her hand, trying not to laugh but the image Jaheira's words conjured was far too funny not to. Khalid joined in soon afterward and before Kivan knew it everyone was laughing, even Viconia.

Try as he might couldn't seem to be offended and eventually felt a smile tugging at his mouth. "Ah but you've never tasted my pine tree sandwiches. They are a little prickly but undoubtedly delicious."

Lilliana put a hand to heart. "My gods! Did _Kivan_ just make a _joke_?! Quickly, someone jot this event down in your journal lest we forget it!"

Kivan smirked at the half high-elf. "You think you're amusing don't you?"

She smiled cutely and shrugged. "Sometimes."

It was with good spirits that the group started to weave their way back to the road. In the morning light the pale sentinels of the Ulcaster ruins didn't seem nearly as threatening and the group even spotted a few flowers that had started to grow around the edges of the ancient stones. With the fog of yesterday only the ruins had been visible, now it seemed that there was life in this ruined spot after all.

Lilliana and Imoen had taken to skipping. Morning sunshine did wonders for the soul it seemed. Viconia covered her face with her cowl and complained about why it had to be so damn bright, but even she seemed more lively and calm than the previous day.

The sisters began to sing a bawdy dwarven tavern song. Separately they might not have sounded half bad but together they were horribly off tune and the false dwarven accent they were attempting made it even worse. "**I's the lad be chuggin' a mug, be drinkin' as I teetered 'n' tottered. When my fiftieth mug ran dry my head done felt like it'd been clobbered! Oooohhh . . .bring me another round yon lass, got coin here to be spendin, lest ye want 'ta roll with me then it's me room that we be headin'!" **They finally finished, giggling together.

Viconia was scowling but the teasing tinge in her voice was obvious. "Tell me Lilliana . . . is it not _dwarves_ that sing that particular song?" She asked and Lilliana nodded. Viconia grinned snidely under her hood. "Then for the sake of our ears let's keep it that way shall we?"

Usually the drow's commentary sent everyone's hackles up. That one however (coupled with the ridiculous picture of two young girls singing a song normally suited for burly drunken dwarves) launched the group into a fit of laughter.

Lilliana smiled, short of breath after the song. "You laugh today but there will come a time when . . AHH!" She screamed as what appeared to be ancient tiles crumbled under her feet. Imoen went to reach for her but she was too late as her sister fell down into the darkness.

"Gods! Lil?! Lilliana?!" She yelled down into the hole, Ajantis doing his best to hold the red head back from the edge. Finally there was an answer.

"I-I'm okay. My backside hurts a little but the ground broke my fall." There was laughter coming from down below.

Imoen wrinkled her nose at Lilliana's words. "That's _not_ funny ya know!"

Lilliana's voice echoed up to the group. "Sorry. I think I must be in some kind of basement. There are tiles down here and some broken wall sconces. I can see light ahead."

Imoen was trying to find a way to get down to her sister but Ajantis continued to hold her back. "What's wrong with you?! Lemme go!" The human shouted at the much taller paladin.

"Lilliana is lucky _she_ didn't break anything with that far a drop. You don't seriously think I'm going to let _you_ test that same luck _yourself_ do you?"

The red head grumbled under her breath but finally relaxed her posture. Viconia had gotten down on her belly and was peering down into the darkness over the edge of the hole. Her infravision spotted Lilliana's heat signature easily. The half high-elf was sitting on the ground looking around her. The drow could also spot tiny flecks of heat, light, down in the gloom.

"What kind of light? Something dangerous?" Her inflected voice called out, waiting for the Lathanite's response.

"I don't know. I don't think so. More like enchanted flames from some sconces further down the hallway I am in."

The druid snorted at that response from her spot behind Viconia. "_Heavily_ enchanted to have stayed lit _this_ long. Tell her we will find another way down to her and tell her to stay put! By all the pantheon we don't need her running into some kind of mess down there with no one to help her."

Imoen opened her mouth, ready to relay Jaheira's words, but Lilliana interrupted that. "She doesn't need to tell me anything. I heard you." The cleric shouted up to the group.

Jaheira quirked an eyebrow. "_How_ did you hear me? I didn't think your hearing was _that_ good."

Snickering laughter drifted up to her ears. "It isn't any better than anyone else's but you _do_ have a habit of talking too loud."

Imoen grinned at her sister's words, amused, and Jaheira was astonished at how well Lilliana seemed to be taking her situation. Well enough that she could crack jokes.

"And I'll _try_ to remain in this spot but if something is down here with me I cannot promise anything. Just hurry up, it smells horrible down here."

Kivan motioned the group to follow him and Jaheira shouted down one last time. "Oh right away omnipresent authority figure, terribly sorry to inconvenience you with our lack of speed. Stay safe Lilliana!" There came a tentative 'right' from the hole before Jaheira joined the others.

"There is a stairwell I located last evening while scouting. It's covered with a pretty heavy slab of wall but it's the only access point I can think of. We should easily be able to move the wall if we use our collective strength." Kivan verbally provided when the group was all together.

Khalid fixed the wood elf with an ill favored look. "A-And we aren't h-hearing a-about this until n-now?"

Kivan shrugged. "I didn't see the point and there still wouldn't be if we didn't have a need to save our resident dawn mistress. Come then, let us get down there before something else beats us to her."

Ajantis reached out and gripped Kivan's arm. "Wait one thrice damned minute. What would make you think there _is_ anything down there? You said the area was _clear _. . . is there something _else_ that you failed to bring to our attention?"

Kivan pulled his arm from the paladin's grasp. "No 'righteous' one, there isn't anything else, but we must always be ready for surprises. I'm sure I don't need to remind you about our run in with the _memorable_ Ichlych." He left out that he had heard sounds coming from down there the evening previous, but the group suddenly seemed hostile towards him and the wood elf wasn't going to press the issue.

Ajantis dropped his bothered stance and shook his head. "No you don't need to remind me of anything. Fine then. The sooner we get Lilliana out of there the better I will feel."

* * *

Ajantis was right. She had been _very_ lucky not to break anything, but fairly unlucky to have walked across crumbling tiles and fallen down here in the first place. It was unclear where Lady Luck stood that morning. Lilliana rubbed at her sore tailbone, moving with a groan. Her legs cracked when she got up as if the muscles had stiffened from her previous seated position and were protesting against any kind of movement.

The half high-elf leaned against a wall, disgusted as she felt wetness seep into her shoulder. The whole area smelled heavily of moss and mold. Where the condensation was coming from she wasn't sure, maybe just from the halls of the Ulcaster basement being holed up for so long in the dank darkness, but she didn't want to think about what kind of things were _in_ that condensation and now seeping into the fabric of her muslin shirt.

She used the handle of Ashideena, now removed from it's holster, as a cane until she managed to find her balance. Lilliana felt a little woozy and she was worried that she might have incurred some internal head injuries from her fall. A dirty hand came to her forehead and rubbed at her temples.

From ahead the orange glow of fire created dancing shapes on the cracked and worn stone walls. These underground halls had probably been a lot better looking in their heyday, when they were underneath an actual school and not merely the ruins of one, but now their image wasn't very inviting. Sunlight from above didn't make it far down into the hole and Lilliana could only look up at the bright sky above her longingly, unable to feel it's warmth. A brief breeze must have blown through the halls because the blazing sconces from farther away made a flickering noise.

Lilliana said she would _try_ to stay put, but surely just a _little_ exploring wouldn't hurt. She was after all quite curious about why some of the wall sconces down here had stayed lit so long and the best way to satiate curiosity was met through investigation. That was what dear Tethtoril had always told her father whenever she had gotten into some kind of trouble. The half high-elf smiled at the memory of the elderly Keeper of the Tomes. If Ulraunt were ever to pass on suddenly it would be Tethtoril that would take his place. Lilliana thought that would be a vast improvement.

She walked slowly, Ashideena still out in front of her so she would have something to lean on if she lost her balance. After daintily stepping over a pile of stone rubble she came around the corner, letting her eyes adjust to infravision so she could better see in the dark. Imoen had once asked how those certain races that had the ability to see in infravision could switch spectrums. Lilliana laughed quietly to herself as she remembered her sister's exact words.

_"I mean, it's pretty weird to say . . .don't ya think? 'Switch to infravision spectrum' Is there like a lever or somethin' in your head that says 'Pull Left Side for Infravision, Pull Right Side for Normal Vision'?"_

It was nothing like that of course but more of a gradual process. You had to force yourself to see the heat signature of one particular object until your consciousness had sort of 'locked on' to it. Then you shut your eyes with the image of that heat signature still in your mind and when you opened your eyes you could see the hot and cold signatures of everything. At least that's how it was for Lilliana. She would have to ask the others how it was for them to see if they did it differently.

In her musings she had wandered far down the halls and as she looked about her now she realized with a sudden panic that she didn't know where she was. Around the half high-elf the hallway split into four different halls and Lilliana was standing at the center where they met. Forcing herself to calm down the dawn mistress realized that she must have come from the hallway directly behind her. She _intended_ to go back to where the hole she had fallen through was but then she remembered that the reason for taking a walk in the first place was to investigate the sconces.

Shaking her head at her ability to rapidly become afraid and lose focus she went to the nearest blazing sconce and got up on the tips of her toes, looking at it intently. With the heat of flames creating nothing but a big white blur in infravision she had to switch back to the normal spectrum to properly see the object of her interest.

Though everything else down here was dusty and grimy the intricate detailing of the metal sconce seemed untouched, even clean. Lilliana had expected that it would be covered by soot whether the flame that blazed within it was magical in nature or not. It wasn't sooty though and was in fact so shiny that the half high-elf could see a blurred reflection of herself in it's surface.

A faint 'plink plink' of falling liquid echoed through the halls and Lilliana was finding it distracting. Finally she gave up on the sconce and followed the noise to it's source. It wasn't far down the left hall that she found a small well. The sound of falling water was coming from there but the bucket had been long dry. Arching one black eyebrow she leaned over the stone edge of the well's wall but could see nothing.

Heavy breathing sounded from behind the cleric and she froze in place, almost afraid to turn her head. Slowly she backed away from the well with her hands tight on the handles of both war hammers. Her eyes darted about the small room she was in settling on a shadow that was cast over the wall just outside the doorway.

The breathing was interspersed with a low growl and Lilliana's eyes widened as the grip on her weapons tightened to the point that her knuckles were white. A mass of bloodied fur came around the stone edges of the doorway, sticking up in uneven patches. The head of the creature was sniffing the ground with it's elongated snout and it's body stiffened when it caught the half high-elf's scent. It raised it's head, opening it's mouth in a menacing growl, pieces of flesh hanging from it's sharp black teeth.

_Vampiric wolf!_ Lilliana made the connection between the creature's appearance and the description of it found in many of Candlekeep's encyclopedias. Another wolf joined the one already in the room, their nails clicking on the stone as they slowly moved toward the cleric.

She was afraid to move but more afraid to stay where she was. Two pairs of blood red eyes were locked onto her and she knew that no matter what she did the vampiric wolves would give chase. The only choice was to fight. _Lathander give me strength!_ She prayed feeling the electric current of Ashideena against her body.

_That was it!_ Ashideena was an enchanted lightning hammer and vampiric wolves had a weakness to enchanted weapons. At least that was what Elminster had written in his "Monster Manual of the Sword Coast: First Edition" Lilliana only hoped the famed mage had been right. The wolves drew nearer and Lilliana readied her weapons, her eyes focused in on her quarry.

Lightning arced out creating a storm of electricity inside the confines of the room's walls. Lilliana focused all her energy into her weapon as the vampiric wolves bore down on her. A loud yowl of pain erupted from the creatures as the lightning scorched their flesh. Injured but still going strong they both rose again and came after the cleric, now angered by her attack.

The dawn mistress squeaked in fright as she made a mad leap over the well, the edges of her feet catching on the crumbling foundation. As she landed painfully on her side against the dirty stone she barely had time to get her war hammers in front of her protectively. Both wolves were biting at her, becoming more persistent the more she held them off. Amidst their snarling and her panicked defense it was hard to concentrate but she fought to find her conjurations.

Words of Vasis came from her mouth and the wolves whimpered as a force of repulsion sent them back. Still they persevered and Lilliana had no time to be in awe of their persistence. Now with a small advantage of space she managed to arc the war hammers out in front of her, the silver one catching a wolf in the side and sending the unnatural animal into what might have at one time been a table.

Dust flew up from where the vampiric wolf now lay motionless while the other leaped against Lilliana and knocked her back against a wall. Her breathing was heavy as she desperately tried to keep that bloody maw away from her face and neck. Finally breaking away from the wolf she made an attempt at another attacking arc only to be forced to the floor and pinned under the surprising weight of the wolf. She kicked out with her feet desperately trying to get away and managed to kick the creature off her.

Just as it was ready to pounce upon her again she thrust the pointed end of Ashideena's handle out in front of her. With full force the wolf went to jump on the cleric only to impale itself on the pointed handle of her hammer. Blood spewed over Lilliana's face and chest. With a surprised whimper the wolf growled once at Lilliana before hanging lifelessly where it had been skewered.

Disgust sounded from Lilliana's thinly pressed lips as she pulled herself to her feet, yanking Ashideena's handle from the dead wolf and wincing at the sickening noise it made. Ripping off a sleeve of her shirt she wiped what blood she could off her face and took both war hammers in hand. The crimson fluid that stained her chain mail was at a loss until she found herself in a position to wash it.

Both wolves lay motionless now but she wasn't going to take any chances. A thick door lay past the well and she moved hurriedly towards it, giving only one last cursory glance at the vampiric wolves she had defeated.

Moving into the next room she quickly shut the door behind her, hands searching frantically for some kind of lock. There was a cross bar seal for the door and she pushed hard before it finally slid across the ancient metal that held it. Lilliana wasn't at all sure how well that would hold and it was a wonder what little wood there was in the door itself hadn't rotted away by now.

Taking a deep breath she slumped against the wall, her war hammers finally released from her death grip and laying on the dusty floor. Lilliana ripped off the remaining arm of her shirt, her arms now only covered partially by the chain mail that hung from her shoulders. With the cloth she wiped at her face to rid it of the remaining blood that filled her nostrils with it's copper odor.

Her lips felt dry but she resisted the desire to lick them, horrified at the idea of getting any of the wolf's fluids in her mouth. Suddenly the half high-elf remembered the canteen that she usually carried with her only to find it missing from her belt loop when her hands sought it out. With a heavy sigh Lilliana finally looked around at the room she was in.

Familiarity filled her mind and immediately her thoughts traveled back to much more pleasant times and much more pleasant places. Though the library in her memory had been much cleaner and populated than the one she was in now.

Tall book shelves reached almost to the ceiling, covered with dust and cobwebs. Lilliana shuddered at the thought of spiders as her eyes traveled over the books that spilled from their former place on the shelf to the dirty floor below. Some lay open, their bindings and pages ruined beyond repair. The cleric clicked her tongue at the waste of knowledge. As far as she was concerned the written word was one of the greatest achievements that the mortal world had ever made. It was a pity that such excellence would be neglected and lost like this.

Rising from her place on the floor, the wolves blissfully forgotten for now, she moved towards the nearest book shelf. A pile of burgundy bound tomes were slumped against one corner and her slender hands traveled over them, a faint smile on her face. A glint of glass caught Lilliana's eye and she turned to find a display case tucked away in a small alcove.

As she drew closer she saw that only pieces of the glass covering remained, the rest broken and laying against the large tome that sat on the once plush velvet lining. Mold had begun to grow on the fabric that the book lay upon and was making a path up across the golden cover of the tome itself. Lilliana reached in, letting the glass fall back into the case as it slipped off the covering, and removed the book.

Gently the half high-elf blew the thick coating of dust off the top and brushed away the mold with one hand, holding the tome in the other. There were no discerning marks or words to identify the large book, none that Lilliana could find at least, but upon opening it and reading the first page Lilliana immediately knew what it was. A history book of some sort . . . a history on what she wasn't sure yet. It was written in a language that the young cleric was most unfamiliar with but there were notations written in Common at the sides and in the margins of the original writing. She began to read them. They spoke of something about the creation of Abertoril and the birth of the gods.

Green eyes went wide with amazement as she read the notes. _This was astounding!_ What a find this tome was if the words within could be proven accurate. Fully engrossed in the book she was reading Lilliana didn't notice the three large eight legged shapes that were making their way towards her, moving from behind the hulking book shelves and the doorway the lay on the opposite side of the room.

* * *

"It's a wraith! Kill it!" Imoen shouted, drawing the groups attention to a spirit that was lingering near the now opened stairwell to the basement. It had taken the strength of everyone in the group to move the wall that had covered it but finally they had succeeded, now to be met by a creature after their success.

"No." Viconia called out, recognizing the spirit for what it was. "It's just a ghost."

Imoen still looked panicked, spilling out the contents of her quiver on the ground looking for more fire arrows. "What do you mean _just_?!"

The drow snorted. "There is no spectral chill, no foul odor, and it also hasn't tried to attack us yet or take a human form to trick us. It's just hovering there. To attack something that is not attacking us and thusly waste our energy that could be used when it's really needed would be stupidity of the highest order. Not that I haven't come to expect such a lack of intelligence amongst you surfacers."

Imoen glared at her, remembering that the drow were nearly infamous for killing for enjoyment, but Jaheira agreed with the priestess and thusly earned _herself_ Imoen's glare. "Viconia is correct. It seems harmless enough and we should be able to pass down into the ruins without event." The druid spoke out to the spirit, not particularly expecting a response, and it became apparent that herself and the drow were not _entirely_ agreed.. "We wish to venture down the stairwell. Will you allow us to pass?" She asked calmly.

"Why do you insist on wasting our time half-breed? Just walk past the thing!" Viconia hissed from the druid's side but Jaheira ignored her.

"The . . .best . . . of . . . schools . . . " The spirit spoke, it's gravelly voice echoing in the heavy tones of an elder male. Though the group could see through the spectral being it was easy to decipher that he had been a mage in life. The ethereal robes of an arch-magi covered his ghostly form.

"It would seem we have found Ulcaster himself." Kivan offered.

"Such . . .a . . .loss . . . " The ghost spoke again, shaking his head sadly.

"May we pass?" Jaheira tried again.

"Pass? . . . .pass . . .yes . . . .pass . . .into . . . the . . . .lower . . .level . . . retrieve . . .the . . . Tome . . . .of . . . History."

The druid looked at the ghost of Ulcaster quizzically. "Tome of History? Why must we find this book?" Viconia was getting antsy, shifting from one foot to the other, aggravated that they were still standing here.

"History . . . is . . . so . . .important . . . Only . . .way . . .to . . .break . . . curse . . . " Ulcaster explained.

"C-Curse? W-What c-curse?" Khalid was genuinely confused. As far as he could tell the ruins of the Ulcaster School were just that, ruins. They didn't appear to be suffering any kind of curse.

"For Shar's sake!" Viconia growled. "Enough of this!"

Ajantis looked over at her. "Quit your mouth drow. Patience is a virtue you lack in spades. I am as anxious as you to get Lilliana out of there but this spirit might be able to tell us something that could bring aid." The priestess gave the knight a withering look but remained silent.

"The . . .ghost . . .lights . . will . . .fade . . . with . . . the . . .tome . . . .pass . . . pass . . .pass . . " The spirit wavered and disappeared from sight.

"Finally! Let us hope that Lilliana isn't already dead because of your stalling!" Viconia shouted, her face an angry mask.

Imoen raised an eyebrow at that. "If I didn't know better I'd say ya _like_ my sister."

The drow looked as if someone had stabbed her in the gut at the girl's words before she turned on Imoen like an angry mountain lion. "Like? _Like_?! Ha! I care for nothing and no one fool! Lilliana is merely the only one with any sense in this group and it would be a pity to travel with a band of roving idiots and have no one to do the thinking except myself. I have better things to do with my time than think for a bunch of useless surfacers!" She turned about, ivory hair whipping out behind her like it was a weapon before she disappeared down the stairwell, not waiting for anyone.

Imoen rolled her eyes. "Sheesh! Touchy much?"

Ajantis was the last down the stairs and the words of Viconia echoed in his head. No matter what the drow said it did appear more and more that she had some kind of affection for Lilliana and the fact that she had reacted viciously to that suggestion made it appear even more so. He didn't like it. They spent far too much time together since the group had left Beregost. Viconia now trained Lilliana right along with _him_. They went through the motions of some kind of hand code during the nights that they camped. Lilliana was beginning to walk like Viconia, conjure like Viconia, fight like Viconia.

Training was all well and good but the last thing Lilliana needed was to be taking her direction from a _drow._ No, Ajantis didn't like it at all. The tall knight mulled his distress as he descended down into the ruins.

The pale bleached look of the stones above was not found here. Dark shadows enveloped the basement and the light from above filtered down only about half way along the stone stair well. A few sconces were lit but their light was orange and heavy. The smell of the lower level felt oppressive and dank. Viconia should have felt better away from the sun but as she looked around her she only felt uncomfortable.

"Right. W-Well then all w-we n-need to do i-is f-find the d-direction of t-that sink h-hole L-Lilliana f-fell through." Khalid smiled at his wife, reassuring her with merely a look.

She smiled back. "Easier said than done Khalid my dear."

Behind the couple Imoen had one gloved hand over her nose. "Eeeww! What's that disgustin' stench?"

Ajantis laughed softly favoring the short human with an pleasant smile. "That would be the lovely aroma of mold Miss Imoen."

Kivan sniffed the air and shook his head. "No there's something else. Noxious." The wood elf glanced over at Imoen who nodded in concordance, her nose still covered.

"Jellies perhaps. We should remain on our guard." Jaheira directed, signaling the companions forward.

As they ventured along the corridor before them the reeking chemical odor got stronger. It wasn't long until they heard the tell tale noise that proved Jaheira's speculation accurate. Only one passage stretched out before them and it was simply a matter of time before they came across the cause of the foul odor that by now _everyone_ had gotten a whiff of. Slurping sounds came from around a sharp left bend in the hallway and the companions readied themselves.

Imoen thought that right about now a good ole' 'magic missile' spell would come in handy. Not for the first instance since their trip she mourned the fact that she'd never taken up more magical studies during her time at Candlekeep. The thief didn't know how well her bow would work against jellies. Rapidly her mind went through the memory of all the different conjured creatures she and her sister had fought against during their studies. Jellies had been part of those studies. Green slimes, gray jellies, mustard jellies and more.

"_Forget jelly, I would prefer jam any given day of the week!_" Lilliana's words reverberated in her memory and she smiled as her right hand held the hilt of her short sword.

After they had disposed of Bassilus and his undead 'family' the mayor of Beregost had made good on his promise of reward. Lilliana had gotten the most from it of course, what with her new title and official signing under the temple, but the coin given to the group had still been a pretty good reward as far as Imoen was concerned. Her sister had insisted upon the reward being divvied up evenly amongst the group and with Imoen's coins she had purchased better armor, a lightly enchanted bow and of course her short sword.

Taerom Fuirum called her sword "The Singin' Blade" and when she had first purchased it from the friendly blacksmith she had figured it would sing at some point. Ajantis had been amused by that and Imoen had been insulted briefly until the knight explained that it was likely the sword made a singing noise during battle, due to the enchantments placed upon it. Imoen had thanked him for the explanation and watched the handsome paladin walk away with a smile.

Now the human girl could hear the silver blade humming lightly in it's scabbard. _Soon my friend. Soon._ She thought, pulling the weapon out slowly and preparing herself for battle. This time there would be no mage to control the conjured creatures, but real jellies that must be dispatched before the acid and poison that made up their 'bodies' could imbed itself under the skin of those attacking them.

Viconia gave a loud battle roar and was the first to round the corner, her new flail seeming as impatient for mêlée as the drow was. With a graceful whirl of her lithe, and dangerous, figure she sent the weight of her flail into the first creature, a disgusting mustard jelly. The ooze creature surged up to grasp at the drow like a water elemental reaching for boat. There was the sputtering of liquid as the flail's point sent splatters of the jelly's body against the tiles and walls.

There were four more jellies that sat upon the floor, their ooze turning the dirty gray tiles dark with their dampness. Imoen crinkled her face in disgust as she stabbed forward with her blade, the whistling noise it made when she fought much more pleasing than the noise the jellies made.

Jaheira had forgone any druidic castings, knowing full well that only specific kinds of wizardry would prove effective against jellies. All the mage-less group had was enchanted weapons to dispatch the creatures that were barring their way to the rest of the basement. Her Staff of the Woodlands sent out sparks of energy as it connected with the jellies, sinking deep into their soupy bodies. Together with her husband, a master of his own long sword, Nithryon, they dispatched one jelly. As she turned her violet eyed gaze on the others she saw that Ajantis and Kivan had defeated two of the things. Imoen and Viconia were making short work of the remaining two.

With the brief battle now joined the companions quickly dispatched the jellies. Imoen shook her sword, sending splatters of the remains of her foes to the floor. "Gross! It's gonna take _forever_ to get my sword clean again!" She wailed.

Kivan was wiping off his own weapon and spoke to the girl without ever raising his head. "Every battle you enter makes you stronger." Imoen looked over at the ranger for a moment, considering his words, and finally nodded.

There was no time to relax for soon a sharp female scream echoed down the passage. "LILLIANA!" The group shouted in unison before taking off at a run. Ajantis almost slipped and fell when his foot landed in the remains of a mustard jelly, but he corrected himself and was soon speeding down the hallway again.

Imoen and Viconia were taking the lead, running nearly as rapidly as wild cats. The drow driven by her natural speed and Imoen driven by her desperate concern for her sister. At the end of the hall they encountered a problem. There was a door before them but all around the door and down the two smaller passageways that sprouted from this one were thick white webs. Bones large enough to be human and the remains of some rats were woven into the massive web that was across the doorway. Beyond it Imoen could see light and clearly hear the arachnid hiss of the creatures that must be laying in wait beyond the portal way.

"Spiders." Viconia gave a shudder at the thought, her mind drifting back to the creatures that had populated every home in Menzoberranzan. Creatures considered sacred by Lolth herself.

Imoen, now panicked, began to hack away at the webbing. "We have to get 'ta to Lil!"

Ajantis' Waterhavian voice rang out softly and he placed a hand on Imoen's shaking shoulder. "Calm yourself. It will take some time to get these webs down and we can't be certain Lilliana is in that room. There are two other hallways here."

The human shook her head, not impeded in her desperation to get to the room beyond. "No, I'm sure she is. She wouldn't have screamed like that if . . .ya don't understand! Lil is horribly afraid of spiders! She can't move, she can't talk . . .if there are spiders in that room with her . . she'll be paralyzed . . she can't fight 'em back!" Imoen finally turned to look at Ajantis, her light green eyes wide with horror. "Do ya' get it?! They'll kill her!"

The paladin's own eyes widened at Imoen's words. "Lilliana has arachnophobia?"

Imoen snorted angrily. "Yes! Now help me or get outta my way!" The small human viciously started hacking away at the webbing again. Everyone was gathered around Imoen, briefly exchanging looks between them, as they too began to hack, pull and twist at the heavy webbing.

The human girl shrieked when she entered the room at the end of the hall. She barely noticed that it was a library, her eyes focused on the three massive spiders that had made a ring around a tall bookcase, trying to reach the lone half high-elf that was crouched and shaking in fear atop it.

"Lil!" Imoen shouted and one spider hissed, turning it's six large black eyes on the girl. Two of it's spindly poison tipped legs rubbed together as the other six legs held it's bulbous body off the ground, nearly towering over the drow and the human that stood before it. "Get away from my sister!" She screamed angrily, her short sword out and shaking in her hand. The giant spider hissed again, it's maw opening to reveal nasty looking teeth. Clear venom dripped from each of the sharply pointed fangs that lined it's mouth. Small plumes of smoke rose from the toxic acid of the spider's poison where it had fallen.

The spider jumped easily across the distance that separated it from the human and knocked her to the ground. Her sword clattered from her hands and Imoen rapidly found herself fighting off the mouth full of fangs that was closing in on her. She screamed as a droplet of venom landed on her cheek and burned her skin. Around her she could hear the others battling off the other two spiders but their sounds were lost to her as she frantically tried to get out from under the spider's massive bulk.

"Help me! Please! Help me!" She yelped just managing to move her head to left before the spider lashed out at her. This time it reared back, ready to bite her head off when something heavy impacted with it's side. Hissing angrily it turned to face it's attacker.

Viconia stood by the creature, the flail in her hand dripping with the spider's fluids that now ran from an open wound in it's carapace body. She was smiling devilishly. "Hello, Lolth kin."

Imoen had the opportunity to dart away from the spider and she took it, dashing to where her sword lay on the stone floor. Her anger renewed she went after the creature; short sword aiming for the sensitive skin of it's jointed legs. Viconia had conjured two skeletons to aid her in battle and with four figures and four weapons bearing down upon it the arachnid didn't seem nearly as frightening to young Imoen.

Khalid had jumped on top of a small table, moving to land atop the back of a large sword spider. The only place it seemed where he wasn't exposed to it's deadly sharp legs. With angry hissing jerks of it's body it tried to buck the half-elf off but he remained, holding his position with his muscled legs as he aimed the tip of Nithryon for the spider's head. With a downward thrust the sword sunk through the spider's flesh and it began to jerk wildly finally dislodging Khalid and sending him careening into a book shelf, tomes falling everywhere.

The druid watched her husband, first with pride and then with fear as he was thrown. Angrily she weaved and ducked away from the sword spider's attacks, swinging her staff until it connected with the creature's face, sending it's head to loll back. Khalid was at Jaheira's side immediately, quickly recovered and the two attacked it together.

Ajantis joined them and they fought back against the spider with ease.

Kivan was aiming for the third spider's legs as it reached for Lilliana, it's kin forgotten in it's desperation for a fresh meal. His deadly aim sent arrow after arrow into those spindly limbs, finally managing to garner it's attention on himself. With sword drawn he approached it, nimbly avoiding it's attempts to bite at him.

It was hours before the spiders were defeated. Jaheira had to cure Imoen and Ajantis from the poison that had gotten into their systems and she herself had some deep gouges where the sword spider had made contact, though during the battle she had hardly noticed the injuries.

Now the groups attention was on Lilliana. The half high-elf was shaking in fear, her breathing coming in hitches as her arms were wrapped almost protectively around a large book. "Lilliana, come down, they are dead." Jaheira tried as gently as she could but the cleric didn't even act like she had heard her. She was terribly angry at Lilliana for moving from the spot where she had fallen but right now her only concern was getting the foolish girl down from the book case so she could make sure she was alright.

Moments passed and still she hadn't moved or even recognized that anyone was in the room. When Ajantis made a move forward she screamed and flinched. With a stricken look on his face the paladin turned imploringly to the druid. Jaheira shook her head at him, unsure of what to do next.

Lilliana didn't scream nearly as loud, though there was a whimper in her voice, when Viconia walked toward the book case, her flail back in it's holster. "Lilliana Avalon you will look at me right now." Unlike the druid the drow's voice was anything but gentle. "I said look at me!"

Ajantis went to silence the drow but Imoen held him back. "No, this might work." Her voice was soft and it left the paladin staring at the scene that played before him.

"If I have to come up there and get you our lessons together will be over!" Viconia shouted again and finally Lilliana looked at her, eyes wild and afraid. They moved to the dead spiders and she flinched, cowering back. "No don't look at _them_! You look at _me_. I don't have time to play games with you." The half high-elf tore her gaze away from the spiders, finding Viconia again.

"I . . I cannot come down there! They will get me! They'll wrap me up and eat me alive!" Lilliana shrieked.

Viconia shook her head, red eyes locked on to girl that cowered above her. "They are dead Lilliana. They aren't going to eat _anyone_. Now you will come down here this very instant!"

Lilliana recoiled at that suggestion. "I can't! They just look dead but they aren't!"

The drow seemed to be losing her patience. "Enough! You are being irrational and stupid! I said don't look at them!" Her voice was as shrill as a banshee when Lilliana's gaze began to drift back to the spider's bodies. Immediately she stayed locked into Viconia's glare.

"Get down here now Lilliana." The command was a simple one and slowly the cleric began to move. The book was still tight in the grasp of one arm as her other arm held her steady while her booted feet found purchase on the shelves. "That's it, keep going." Viconia coached from the side. When Lilliana was on the floor the drow grabbed her shoulders. "Now there's a door beyond these shelves. We are going to walk through it. You will look at nothing but me. Understand?" Lilliana nodded, her eyes still frantic.

Everyone watched in amazement as the drow led Lilliana through the doorway. When they followed they saw that Viconia was walking the half high-elf far past the point where she could see all the webbing. Finally the pair stopped. From the group's distance that couldn't hear quite what Viconia said the Lilliana but it was enough to make the cleric finally relax as she leaned against a wall.

"All you alright Lil?" Imoen was the first to ask and her sister looked up at her with a small smile.

"After a fashion, yes. If I keep ripping my clothes though we are going to need to go shopping again."

The human girl grinned and motioned to the book in Lilliana's grasp. "What's that?"

Lilliana smiled widely now. "A wondrous tome. The History of Abertoril."

Jaheira's eyes seemed to light up in thought at that, as did Imoen's. "Hey! This . . .this might be what 'ole Ulraunt wanted huh?"

The druid nodded. "Perhaps so."

Lilliana looked back and forth between the two. "Ulraunt? What are you two talking about?"

Jaheira came closer, her violet eyes angry. "We'll tell you just as soon as you explain what in the name of the heavens made you go wandering off!"

Lilliana laughed nervously. She felt like a child under the druid's gaze and despite the disagreement the two had before they had faced off against Bassilus it never ceased to amaze the cleric just how much Jaheira made her feel small and insignificant. Maybe it was because of the years of life and experience she had seen, maybe it was because she was a Harper, probably it was both. "Well . . . I was curious about the sconces."

Jaheira snorted at that but said nothing further and Lilliana was afraid she was saving her words for latter when Lilliana wouldn't feel so protected by the others. "We encountered Ulcaster's ghost above. It seems a Tome of History is the key to removing some curse he believes the ruins to be under. What you have there could very well be it." Right to the point, as always.

Lilliana looked at the book in her hands with a frown on her dirty face. "So . . . we need to hand it over to his spirit then?"

Imoen nodded. "Yeah, I think so."

Lilliana smiled though it was obvious she didn't really want to give the book up. "Then I say we give him what he wants. There are enough restless spirits in this world. If we can send one on peacefully we should do it. Lead the way."

It hadn't taken nearly as long to get to the surface as it had to get to the library and before the group knew it they were once again bathed in afternoon sunlight.

"What do we do now?" Lilliana asked, looking about her.

"Over there!" Imoen shouted, already feeling foolish at her first reaction to Ulcaster.

Lilliana kept herself from recoiling from the ghostly form as it drew near. It's voice made her skin feel like it was crawling but she tried to maintain a friendly facade.

"The . . .tome . . .You . . . have . . .it! Please . . . give . . .it . . . to . . . me." Ulcaster asked and Lilliana gave the tome one last forlorn look before offering it to the spirit. All he had to do was touch it and the book took on the same ethereal appearance as Ulcaster himself. If ghosts could smile that's what the dead arch-mage would be doing now. "With . . .this . . .tome . . .the . . .souls . . .within . . .the . . .lights . . . may . . .rest . . .Thank . . .you . . .godchild." His words faded as the form of Ulcaster disappeared from sight.

The half high-elf stared at where he had been, her face confused. She turned to the group, the Harpers barely having time to replace their alarmed look with a composed face. "Godchild? What does _that _mean?"

Ajantis shared in her confusion but he was thinking about it and after a moment responded. "Perhaps he could sense your strong connection to Lathander."

Lilliana mulled that over, one fist curled under her chin, and nodded as she smiled at her trainer. "Likely you are right. You are a wise one indeed."

Ajantis grinned and Viconia rolled her eyes. "Please spare us all the mutual admiration for _one_ day."

Lilliana stuck her tongue out at the drow as she walked off.

"So what does that mean then? Are the ghost lights gone? It sounded like it." Imoen asked.

"I don't really know sister mine. I do know that I feel . . . good . . . about all this. Wherever Ulcaster is now let us hope that both himself and the other lost souls of the Ulcaster School are resting in peace. Lathander willing."

Imoen smiled at her sister's words, glad to see her safe, and happy to see that her run in with the spiders hadn't put her too far off her good mood. "Well said!" The human girl offered as she hooked her arm with her sister's.

"Bandits, crazed clerics, undead hordes, fog, ghost lights, vampiric wolves, spiders, and spirits of dead mages . . .I don't know about you but I'm ready to get to Nashkel." The cleric grinned and Imoen quirked an eyebrow at her.

"Vampiric wolves? When did _that_ happen?"

Lilliana blinked twice as she looked over at her sister. "Why before the spiders of course."

Imoen laughed. "Gee whiz, you've been a busy one Lil."

The half high-elf grinned again. "As I said, I'm ready to get to Nashkel."

Imoen responded with a loud "Here here!" The sisters laughed and started off down the cobbled path that would lead them back to the road.

"Vampiric wolves was it? Would that be the explanation for all that blood?" Kivan asked and Lilliana groaned, rather hoping no one would mention that. She only had herself to blame for being in that situation and for mentioning the wolves.

"Umm, yes." She responded simply.

"_Umm, yes_? That's it? No explanation at all on how _you_ defeated vampiric wolves on your own?" The wood elf wasn't willing to let it go.

"There were only two of them and Lathander was with me. I barely defeated them at all, even now I am not so certain. I was half positive they were going to get back up after they were down. You couldn't believe how persistent they were." She laughed lightly but Imoen could see her sister's eyes were nervous, hoping Kivan would just drop it.

"One of these days you might actually surprise me and take credit for yourself and not someone or something else." The wood elf almost sounded angry but Lilliana couldn't fathom why. Thankfully after that remark he remained silent on the subject.

Viconia found herself once again at the back of the group, a position common for her when the companions traveled. Right now she welcomed the semi-quiet moment of reflection that the solitude offered. She was Viconia, last daughter of House De'Vir and priestess of Shar. There was no reason to give a damn about anyone else and it was foolish to care about others. There was nothing to be gained from it. Your steps faltered, your prowess waned and your intelligence faded. Yet as she looked up ahead at Lilliana, smiling and talking with her sister, she couldn't help the relief that flooded her heart.

To think that she wouldn't hear that voice anymore, or watch as Lilliana smiled at a sunrise, recited a story as they camped during the night, tried to perform the training Viconia was giving her, or attempted to learn the drow silent hand code made the dark elf very unhappy. When she had seen those spiders gathered around a frozen Lilliana the drow had felt absolutely terrified. _That_ was a revelation that Viconia didn't like . . ._not one bit_!

Words from her years of study with other drow noble females in her youth came back to her now. '_All 'love' is foolish. We have no word for it because it is a weakness. 'Love' is a poison that will eat away at you until you are defenseless and then you will be dead. 'Love' is death. Remember that._' The priestess walked with a glower the rest of the day.

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The ruins of the Elder City reminded Tamoko of gray bones as she walked past them, a bright orange light cast over the whole of the area. A high cavernous ceiling seemed almost limitless as it hung in deep shadow, a few stalactites long enough so that their tips received some measure of light from what illumination there was down in the caverns deep beneath Baldur's Gate.

Sarevok walked tall and proud at her side, even dressed in a simple tunic and breeches he gave off a presence that radiated power and strength. Tamoko would be lying if she said that she didn't find it attractive but at the same time it was frightening.

The few people that Lord Anchev trusted were down here with him, along with the priests that shared in some of Sarevok's beliefs. They bowed to him as if _he_ were their god as he strode towards the ancient gate that marked the entrance to a large temple. Tamoko found that she didn't want to look at it, but like a moth to a flame she was inexplicably drawn to it anyway.

Tall skeletal figures were covered in frighteningly realistic likeness in tall alcoves carved in the temple's walls, towering over the mortals that dared to stand before them as if the statues were the living guardians of a powerful god. Tamoko knew the god that _this_ temple had been built for so long ago was dead; at least he was _supposed_ to be dead.

A great sigil, black tears surrounding a screaming skull, hung above the massive doors upon which had been engraved scenes of horrific death. Even an assassin would feel uncomfortable in the face of such a temple. The evil of it felt as strong today as it had probably been when the temple had been constructed. _Bhaal's temple_. Tamoko felt a lump in her throat and she swallowed against it, her face remaining as impassive as ever. Nothing would betray the nervousness she felt inside.

Beside the Karaturan woman Sarevok gripped her hand in his own as they walked across the worn earth. Tamoko's brown eyes flickered across the smiling face of a skeletal statue as she passed the threshold into the temple proper.

Though the assassin had been there only a few times she found that she was yet again amazed at it's size. While the exterior looked fairly large it didn't suggest at the massive domed ceiling and long wide walls within. More of the same skeletal statues outside were within, even larger as the dim light from the sconces danced on their horrid faces. At the temple's end a huge altar sat upon a set of three tiered steps. At the back of the altar was another statue, this one of Bhaal himself wearing armor that Sarevok had tried to replicate. Next to the once great Lord of Murder were the images of two horrific monsters nearly as tall as the god himself. The Slayer and the Ravager, Bhaal's avatars.

Legends said that when Bhaal was but a demigod, fighting for his place amongst the Dead Three, that he had two brothers. To gain an advantage it was theorized that he killed his siblings and used the power he received from their death to create the Slayer and the Ravager from their ruined corpses. Now here Tamoko was, staring at their likeness carved in stone. She couldn't help the shiver that ran across her skin and Sarevok turned towards her.

"Something wrong my jewel?" She smiled up at him, any trace of her revulsion removed from her face.

"No, just a little chilly in here." Sarevok nodded, apparently appeased by her answer and they walked forward.

The long limbs of the avatars seemed to reach out to her, taloned hands ready to rend the flesh from her bones as their ruined fanged faces sneered down at her from their position held aloft. Bhaal may have be sneering too but it was hard to tell with the stone mask of yet another monster covering his face. She felt herself wondering what Bhaal looked like past his armor . . ._did he look anything like Sarevok?_

"Greetings father." Sarevok smirked up at the statue as if daring the god to deny his son entrance. A black robed priest stood as quiet as death itself next to the war lord.

"You have come to see how the repairs are going my lord?" He asked and Tamoko nearly jumped at the sound of his voice, reminded of that creep Nimbul for a brief moment.

"Of course. I trust the temple will be back to it's original glory by the end of Kythorn?" It wasn't as much a question as a command but if it was making the priest nervous he wasn't showing it. That undoubtedly pleased Lord Anchev. He was drawn to individuals with a will as iron as his own.

"Without doubt. We all look forward to it my lord." The priest nodded his robed head and left Sarevok alone at the altar with Tamoko standing quietly at his side. When he had first found this place he had seemed almost nervous, a rarity for him, but over time he had taken more of a personal interest in it, almost as if he considered it his own private sanctuary and the Abyss take Bhaal.

As horribly impressive as the temple was it was hard to believe that anything was wrong with it but over time certain architectural aspects had rotted away, cracked, or crumbled and needed to be replaced. Sarevok chose only those already devoted to the dead Bhaal to oversee the building, priests for the most part that conjured skeletal servants to do the labor.

"It's starting to look good isn't it my dear?" He asked of his lover and she nodded.

"Yes." _'Good' was a relative word._ She thought looking up at Sarevok as he centered his attention on one worn tapestry. Tamoko worried that he was losing himself in this vision that he wanted. He was already powerful but he couldn't see that. He wanted more, always more, and Tamoko feared it would be his undoing.


	8. Chapter Seven: Damsel In Distress

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Disclaimer:**__ Forgotten Realms: Baldur's Gate belongs to Bioware, TSR, and Black Isle Studios. Lilliana is mine and situations that you don't recognize from the game are mine, all other material and inspiration for my material is under copyright by the above named. Additional Forgotten Realms material included in this story but not in the game belongs to Wizards of the Coast._

_**Words From The Author:**__ Firstly my apologies on how long this chapter took. There are some battle scenes and I struggle with those but for the most part it was just good ole' fashioned writers block. The worst fate to befall any wordsmith, of that you can be sure._

_There are a couple locations mentioned that players of the Baldur's Gate console games (Dark Alliance and Dark Alliance II) may recognize. Also you may notice the name of a certain infamous red dragon later on. In addition to that I've touched on the big reason that Lilliana hasn't been plagued by bounty hunters . . . yet. :p_

_Anyway I thank you for your continued patience. There is quite a bit of characterization going on in this chapter. So it's 'character heavy' ;) Also maybe some romance, very little though. I don't want to tempt fate too much. Enjoy!_

_As always dear readers thank you for joining Lilliana on her journey.

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_**Chapter Seven**_

**_Damsel In Distress_**

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_H**ills Edge wasn't a very large settlement, and served mainly as an encampment for the workers of a local sapphire mine. At first the lack of size, and by proxy importance, of the village made Anomen Delryn consider that it was the reason the village Speaker (their closest thing to a mayor) hadn't called for the aid of the Flaming Fist. They were much more local and it wasn't unheard of for the Grand Duke's law enforcement to handle problems outside Baldur's Gate proper. 

Then the twenty two year old squire had found out that the Speaker was Verne Dram, a friend of Sir Ryan Trawl himself. It had become apparent that the man would trust the Order of the Radiant Heart more than the Flaming Fist, even if the particular chapter he had called upon for aid was from the nation of Amn.

Anomen did not know the source of the rumors that the Western Heartlands and Amn were verging on war. Their two largest cities, Baldur's Gate and Athkatla, had been trading together peacefully for centuries. There was absolutely no reason to go to war and yet just a few rumors and suddenly both nations were in an uproar. The young lord felt outraged at his inability to force both sides to see that it was folly.

The possibility of war wasn't the only thing weighing heavily on the warrior priest's mind. Lady Irlana had been quite upset when it became apparent that Anomen would never care about her the way she wanted him to. He hadn't spoken nor seen her in over a week. The last he had heard she had agreed to Sir Cadril's marriage proposal. How very droll. If the young shield maiden had done so in order to spark jealousy in Anomen she had failed, but it did make him angry that he hadn't been able to tell her the truth without hurting her. With no apparent source to focus his frustrations upon he felt as if his burdens were boring him into the earth. Maybe time spent with fellow members of the Order would ameliorate his mood.

Moira hadn't wanted her brother to go but he needed to escape the confines of Athkatla and perhaps this campaign would bring about The Test of Virtue; that which would lead to his knighthood. There was nothing on the whole of Faerûn that Anomen wanted more.

The Order would have had Anomen serving as squire to Cadril, a thought that turned the young nobleman's stomach, but blissfully Sir Ryan had intervened. He said that Lord Delryn was the only squire that seemed able to take proper care of his horse, Javelin.

Lord Trawl had always been kind to both Anomen and the late Lady Delryn. The knight had never married and there were times that young Moira suspected that Sir Ryan had a bit of a 'crush' on their lady mother. Anomen was incensed at that and told his sister that their mother was an honorable woman, not to mention one already married, and would never consider anything of the sort. For all that Sir Ryan was held by the honor of Tyr and that of the Order and would never betray those dictates. Moira, as persistent as ever, told her brother that none of those things meant he _didn't_ have a crush on Lady Moirala. Now as Anomen watched his superior move about the camp he had to wonder . . .was it mere feelings of friendship that had given cause to the man's generosity all those years or something else?

"Squire Delryn! Come help an old man with his kit for a moment?" Gray streaks, the color of steel, were beginning to make their patterns in Ryan Trawl's otherwise brown hair but beyond that there was no sign that he was an 'old man' and Anomen knew better than that. Likely he wanted to discuss something in private.

The young lord nodded at the man. "Certainly Sir Ryan." The kit the tall knight wore was of heavy plate mail and the thick straps that held it over his shoulders _did_ seem to be giving the knight trouble after all. Perhaps he really had simply needed some assistance. Anomen set about the task of helping the man unbuckle the kit and betwixt the effort of them both the stubborn straps finally came undone.

Sir Trawl removed the armor with a heavy sigh and moved his shoulders about reflexively. "Ahh, so much better. I myself never understood why our Order requires us to arrive in full armament when we are not marching straight into battle. Oh well, such things are to be expected after so long. At least now we've arrived and thankfully we have some time to rest."

Anomen nodded his head courteously and made a move to leave but the soft call of his superior held him back. "Just a moment young squire." The taller man put a hand on Anomen's shoulder as he lowered his voice to a decibel only the young lord could hear. "This is your first campaign so far from our home . . . how are you faring?" From anyone else Anomen would have thought they were making an ill mannered jibe at his expense but from Sir Ryan the question was undoubtedly sincere.

Looking around the camp Anomen could see the knights and squires chosen for this campaign getting ready to bed down for the night. Most of them were calm, having already been briefed on the situation and used to far worse, but others (mostly the younger squires) were obviously nervous. Lord Delryn watched them as he spoke.

"To be honest Sir, I am filled with excitement. Too long have I felt . . .restrained . . .in the city. Out on the open field Helm feels as if he has much more of presence and I am glad to share in his righteous glory and that of the Order."

Lord Trawl nodded and smiled down at his squire. "Tis good to hear young Anomen. Get some rest now. We will need it against those giants on the morrow." With that the two men bid one another a goodnight.

The Order's deputation had been camped on a small knoll, over looking Hills Edge and even in the moonlight Anomen could clearly see the damage done to the small settlement. They had been accosted by a group of giants, the village Speaker called them the 'Hill-Gnasher Clan', for over a month now. The giants would hurl boulders into the buildings, mostly to frighten away the villagers and once everyone had fled they would take their stores and livestock. Now the settlement was near starving and unable to get caravan masters to stop with their deliveries for fear of the giants.

When they had called upon the aid of the Order of the Most Radiant Heart the answer had been swift. Indeed the contingent had traveled north along the Coast Way road at near break neck speed.

Like Sir Ryan, Anomen was thankful for the evening of rest but anxious for the morning. As the eldest of the squires Sir Ryan had placed him in charge of the others when they prepared for the following day. It hadn't placated Lord Delryn's wish to become knighted but it had helped.

Every campaign brought one shield maiden, a female member of the Order, who would handle the healing of wounded knights and the supervision of the priests that served in the contingent. Amnian tradition (brought about by a patriarchal society) prevented any female from entering the thick of battle, though practicality called for the Order's female members to be trained in weaponry and armor use anyway.

While Lord Delryn's great nation was slowly making pains to modernize such traditions it was an onerous task. A short time ago they appointed a woman, Lady Bylanna Lanulin, to the office of magistrate on the council seat but she was still looked after by males. _Some _customs resisted conversion. Whether that was for the best or worst was not the young lord's place to say.

Anomen had at first been looking for Lady Irlana as the acting shield maiden of the platoon on this campaign but it was not her chosen for travel. The niece of Sir Keldorn Firecam had recently achieved the title of shield maiden and it was she that had accompanied the group. Lady Felicia, rather short but fierce all the same, spotted Anomen across the camp. All smiles and red hair she threw him a wave which he returned and he watched as she disappeared behind the tent flap.

With a heavy sigh Anomen went inside _his_ tent and made an attempt at relaxation. He had been plagued by awful nightmares for the past month, mostly involving his mother and sister. The young noble truly hoped this evening wouldn't prove a repeat performance.

There was little heat inside the tent's canvas walls and the night held a spring-time chill. Anomen got under the thick blankets as soon as he had removed his chain mail. A small lantern sat on the ground and the squire moved it closer to see by it as he drew a book from his knapsack. Cheery orange light shone across the worn cover of 'Fredyrck's Star Theory'. Anomen opened the first page of the tome and removed a black braid of hair that had been placed between the parchment pages.

Still dark as midnight and soft as silk the small braid was a soothing sight whenever he looked at it. The light danced off the multi colored beads that had been wound into it, the ribbons barely discolored. With a gentle hand he caressed the delicate hair. Smiling with brief contentment Anomen put it away and laid down under the warming covers of his bed roll, eager for the morning.

* * *

Apple blossom trees were abundant in Nashkel and as the group crossed a simple cobbled bridge into town a light wind blew a flurry of small white blooms into the air. Imoen giggled as they tickled her face, reaching out with one hand to grasp a dainty flower that had come loose and placed it behind her ear. 

Reddish orange color swathed the small village as sunset approached. Streaks of light ran across the farmer's fields on the western side of town and created a performance of radiance as tall rows of corn and wheat wafted in the breeze. A wide winding stream, though rather shallow, ran under the bridge into town and seemed to act as a natural divider between the crops and the village proper. The trickling of water was loud enough to sound out past the muffled laughter of children playing their last game before their mothers ushered them inside for the night.

Another evening had to be spent out in the wilderness and almost a full day of traveling before the companions made it to their destination. Lilliana's eyes drifted over to a worn building; a sign out front proclaiming it as simply the 'Nashkel Inn'. It wasn't much to look at but a welcome sight nonetheless and her weary limbs very nearly voiced their own relief.

Beyond the inn there were only a few buildings. Nearly all of them were thatch roofed sandstone hovels. They had a tatty appearance but yet it seemed agreeable to the eye. Like an old cloak with the value of genial memories attached to it.

A large stone church rose well past the roofs of the two structures next to it; a small but spread out cemetery bordering a path that led up to a pair of wide double doors. Though the tall building's facade looked simple it gave off a very vigilant presence. Lilliana wouldn't need to have been told that it was a place of worship for Helm, the Great Watcher. Each of the construct's four gray walls all but screamed that fact.

"We should purchase more potions while we are in town. We've only a few left between us." Jaheira remarked, walking hand in hand with her husband, as she too noticed the temple. Lilliana nodded.

"Agreed, but perchance it could wait until morning?" The girl's question was tinged with a yawn that clearly expressed her reasoning more than any _words_ could.

"Woah! That guy's humongous!" Imoen's astonished tone interrupted any further dialogue between Lilliana and Jaheira, the former following her sister's eyes.

"Imoen that isn't nice to . . . _good gracious_!" The cleric's gaze amplified when she sighted the cause of the human girl's expletives.

While 'humongous' might not have been the polite way to put it the word was quite accurate. A giant of a man stood in front of a building that must have served as a barracks. That was if the Amnish soldiers milling about outside it were any indication. The man appeared frantic, waving his arms about as he spoke loudly to a red trussed officer. The smaller man was all but shaking in the presence of the bald colossus. Lilliana found herself tracing the patterns of the odd purple tattoos on the tall man's head with her eyes, even as the words of the 'conversation' he was having drifted over to the group.

"She could be eaten by evil, stinking, cowardly gnolls little man! Boo says you are law enforcement and you should help a damsel in distress! The boots of justice know no bounds . . .why will you refuse to give aid?!" Though his movements weren't terribly aggressive his voice boomed loud.

Jaheira kept an eye on her charge as the girl eavesdropped on the bald one's entreaty and recognized all to well the expression on the half high-elf's face. "Oh _no_ you don't!" The druid snapped, warranting a disconsolate glance from Lilliana before the Lathanite replaced it with one of detachment; that which wasn't very compelling.

"Don't _what_? I was just _looking_ for a moment" The brunette responded defensively, finally expelling a heavy sigh. "I grow weary. Might we just rest?" She asked.

Jaheira watched the girl like a hawk for a few minutes more before nodding her head. "Very well Lilliana. To the inn we go and tomorrow we purchase our potions and then meet with the mayor."

As the group entered the inn Lilliana cast a glance over her shoulder to the giant man. For one brief split second she could have sworn there was something moving under his cloak, but her eyesight wasn't nearly _that_ good and it was getting dark.

"By all the patience of the Oak Father! You _said_ you were tired; now let's go!" Came Jaheira's voice through the open door, held by her hand as she glared at the young cleric. Turning her head back Lilliana tried as hard as she could to let the man slip from memory; the smell of the warm hearth inside inviting.

Once the thick door had shut behind her Lilliana took some time to let her eyes adjust to the dim light within the inn's small common room. It seemed far more crowded than either of the public houses the group had stayed at whilst in Beregost. Though it was small and worn there was comfort to be had here; much the same as Lilliana had gotten from the simple buildings outside. Though this wasn't enough to keep her mind from drifting.

During the journey southward she had promised Jaheira that she would take more care with strangers and that she wouldn't jump quite so readily into assisting someone of whom she had no affiliation. Out there in the wilderness it wasn't a hard pledge to keep. Then they had arrived at Nashkel and Lilliana heard the entreaty of a very tall man. His size was daunting but his worry was plain and the cleric felt her heart reaching out to him, wanting to help. Jaheira of course had seen right through it. Lilliana _hated_ that she was so . . . _transparent_!

"W-Would you care for s-something to eat?" Khalid asked from the girl's side, looking at her kindly, his warmth enjoyable to see. Lilliana waved the idea away with one hand.

"No, but thank you. I am _so_ tired and there is nothing I would rather do than make my acquaintance with a fluffy pillow and a soft blanket." The look she sent the half gold-elf Harper was almost apologetic but he nodded agreeably, going off to secure their quarters for the evening.

Imoen yawned loudly, nestling herself against her sister's shoulder. Lilliana smiled over at the red head and kissed the crown of her hair. "Long trip wasn't it?" The cleric asked, though there really wasn't a need.

Imoen just muttered a faint 'mmm hmm' and yawned again. Khalid waved the girls over to the counter, a small set of keys dangling from one gloved hand. Lilliana shrugged the shoulder Imoen had perched herself against and the human roused herself enough to move forward.

"I would have words with you Lilliana." Viconia's voice surprised the drowsy dawn mistress but she nodded, Imoen already moving down the small hall to their room.

"Of course. What is it?" Lilliana asked, unprepared for the answer that came.

"I wish to have my own quarters for the night. I . . . I need some time _alone_ to speak with Shar." Their voices were quiet. The Lathanite studied Viconia for a time before she responded.

"Well . . .I guess that would be alright. Jaheira won't like it much, spending the extra coin, but I will talk to her." Viconia just nodded her thanks and left Lilliana to ponder things.

Viconia had been acting oddly for the past few days, and while Lilliana was sure any one of her companions would offer snide commentary on the matter, it was worrying her. The dark elf priestess had never been the most agreeable of individuals but she _had_ been more than willing to voice her opinions. More recently Viconia had become almost withdrawn. She hadn't spoken much since they left the Ulcaster Ruins and now she wanted to be alone. Something was going on. The last morning they had spent in their tents before coming to town was proof of that.

Normally the Shar priestess was up early, making preparations to protect her eyes for the coming dawn; though after years of exposure the sun had become nothing more than a nuisance. Yesterday morning, however, she had stayed inside her tent until it was time to pack up and head out. Lilliana watched now as the drow retreated to a shadowy corner of the common room, her cowl covering her face.

_Maybe being back in town and having to hide herself was grating on her nerves?_ Lilliana didn't know, but whatever it was she felt she should speak to the dark elf about it. Imoen's voice came from an open doorway as the red head peeked her face around the corner.

"Come on Lil!" She whined and the dawn mistress sent her sister a lopsided smile. After securing a room for her dark elf companion she joined her sister. Whatever was wrong with Viconia would have to wait until morning when Lilliana had some rest to clear her mind.

* * *

Neria Aleswell took a hearty mouthful of dragon's breath beer and scanned Feldepost's Inn, taking note of all of it's late night clientele. There was no sign of the girl she was looking for _or_ her companions. She'd grilled the bar tender and the maids for information but they barely remembered their customers from _one night_ ago let alone a _week_ in passing. Neria scratched at her blonde head, the bounty notice folded in her pocket feeling heavier than ever in the face of her current run of luck. 

Five thousand was a hefty sum for a little aristocratic twit but who was she to question the money offered for such an easy kill? Hunter of bounties for nigh on two decades Neria was accomplished at finding those that seemed inaccessible to rookie hunters but _this_ girl was proving harder to track than a snow cougar in Hammerfall. What god it was that was watching over Lilliana Avalon was very thorough. Perhaps that had been the reason for the offer of high payment. Either that or the girl's companions.

Unlike the young cleric and her equally young sister the others she traveled with seemed far more capable than Neria's mark. Two harpers, a knight of the Order, an elf ranger and even a drow priestess. _How_ a little girl from Candlekeep had managed to keep company with a dark elf was beyond the bounty hunter's grasp.

All but the elf had been listed on the notice and Neria had found out about the ranger after spending some time with the bar maids at the Jovial Juggler. That was about all she _had_ found out however and she seethed under her breath at how problematic this score was proving to be. Still . . .five thousand gold pieces was enough to secure her payment on a house in the Gate. Neria was centering on her fortieth year on Faerûn and she found herself yearning for a place to rest her bones.

Finishing her drink off she rose from the table, one such as her no more likely to leave a tip than she would be to dress in a gown. The night air was mild even if the wind held a slight chill and Neria pulled her cloak tight around her chain mail clad form. Feldepost's wasn't her kind of place and she headed for the much more suitable environment that the Red Sheaf offered.

A few drunks, homeless and street courtesans wandered about outside, hanging out mostly in the light around one of Beregost's four inns. So it was that when the bounty hunter heard footsteps behind her that she paid it no mind. Then a hand fell on her shoulder and she turned about swiftly, sword drawn.

"Good way to get yourself killed mate!" She seethed and found a tall man before her wrapped in clothes that nearly blended with the shadows of the night. "Best you be makin' your point, else I'll make it for you." Neria commanded, nodding at the sword in her hand. She couldn't see the man's face and his continued silence was making her nervous. "Well?!" Neria asked again, growing antsy.

He spoke but in a language the bounty hunter didn't understand. Before she could query him on that Neria found that she was unable to move, her mouth frozen where it was. _Some kind of spell! Dammit! _It was only then that the man said something in the common tongue, drawing close.

"That you would think _you_ are _worthy_ to take the life of one such as _her_! You have drawn your own end bounty hunter, for a _true_ assassin has found you." His voice was cold and piercing.

Her sword had already fallen from her limp hand and lay against the cobbles. Neria tried to scream in outrage and protest but her lips wouldn't move. Not that it would have mattered if she _did_ manage to shout. Those that were outside this time of night couldn't seem to care less.

The man that had done this to her dragged her off into an alley; playing that they were two lovers trying to find a private spot. Once the darkness of the alleyway surrounded them Neria felt dread creeping into her stomach, coiling low.

"I sense your fear. Be afraid . . . be angry . . . such emotions please me." Her attacker drew a thin blade from his boot and she could see enough inside his hood to notice the wide smile on his mouth. Without another word he made a deep line across her throat. Neria couldn't even gurgle as she felt her skin open up to the cut, warm blood rushing out over her collar.

Her attacker repeated the strange language that had caused Neria's paralysis and her limbs found movement again but her voice was silent. He had cut her vocal cords and all she could do was place a hand against her bleeding throat as she slumped to the ground. Neria's vision blurred, the man's figure fading from view.

His voice drifted to her as she lay there dying. "Nimbul bids you goodnight."

* * *

**25'th of Mirtul**

Lilliana was the first one up and she couldn't help but feel happy that her old habits were back. After three mornings in a row where she had awoken late the cleric had begun to worry. Even the Harpers, normally risen before even the sun was, weren't about when she strolled into the common room.

Her easy happiness faded and was replaced with discomfort the moment her eyes landed on the large figure seated at the bar. It was the bald, tattooed giant of yesterday. Lilliana swallowed past a lump in her throat; gaping at the man for a long time before she moved over to a corner table. She ordered a very small breakfast; her eyes holding stead fast on their original focus, even as Lilliana's tea and toast arrived. She barely managed a 'thank you' to her server.

A promise was a promise and the cleric _knew_ Jaheira would likely never trust her word again if she broke it but it was _so_ hard. It was nearly impossible, in fact, to sit and watch the man sigh heavily and know that he probably needed help. _And just who are __**you**__ to give it, hmm?_ Her conscience asked of her and she politely told it to mind it's own business.

Maybe if she just went over and _asked . . . ._No. Jaheira would be angry that she even made such a suggestion. Both of the Kostas' had been headed to Nashkel before they had ever been summoned to the Friendly Arm to meet Gorion. They had waited long enough already.

_Why did it have to be difficult? _When Lilliana had been in Candlekeep she hadn't had to be _nearly_ so worried about helping people. If she wanted to offer her assistance she would go to her father. There had never been a time when he'd outright refused. Gorion Avalon was a kindly man, he always had been, and he most certainly didn't act even _remotely_ as pressed for time as Jaheira Kostas was. That was until _that_ night.

It seemed so long ago but in truth not even a full month had passed since her and her father had fled the grand library, Imoen not far behind. Taking a sip of tea the half high-elf drew her eyes away from the bald man. She gazed at her undulating reflection in the rich amber liquid of her drink instead. Wafts of steam rose to gently touch her skin. _Who was the girl in that reflection? Lilliana of Candlekeep still or perhaps someone changed?_ A change brought about by death. She thought that she had gotten over it but just now, lost in thought, she had felt her father's loss keenly. The Lathanite wondered when it would be that she _really would_ get over it.

A deep voice startled her and she nearly dropped her mug, tea spilling out over the sides. Blue eyes, set into a wide but kindly face, fell to the floor in embarrassment as Lilliana looked up at the speaker. "Minsc and Boo are sorry for frightening you little girl." The bald man moved far more softly than Lilliana would have ever imagined was possible considering his hefty physique. She hadn't even heard him approach.

What was more surprising was that the man looked just as shy as Lilliana did. "Boo thinks . . .this might not be our place to say but . . . you look sad. Minsc thinks maybe you _too_ have lost your witch but then Boo reminds me that young girls probably don't have witches."

He was looking down at Lilliana intently but his stare was such that of kindness, and almost childlike innocence, that she couldn't help but feel warmed by it. It was then that the half high-elf spotted a small furred creature emerge from whatever hiding spot it had been afforded in the sleeve of the bald one's tunic.

"Gah! A rat?!" She screeched, moving back as far as the bench seat would allow. There were no clientele besides them that morning but the barkeep and the tavern maids all looked up to see what the fuss was about. Lilliana instantly felt self-conscious and relaxed her posture.

The tall man frowned and took the tiny animal into his palm, petting it lovingly. "Boo is no rat little girl! Why Boo is the world's only miniature giant space hamster." He smiled proudly as the hamster squeaked. There was a hidden packet of sunflower seeds under his open sleeved vest and he took a handful out; Boo moving to stuff himself on the treats. The diminutive animal tried to squeak again, bits of his snack escaping from his mouth.

Lilliana observed the pair, knitting her brow before the corners of her lips came up in a wide smile. The dawn mistress was utterly charmed; unable to believe that moments ago she had thought that the adorable hamster was a rat. "Why he's absolutely _darling_! So . . . you are Master Minsc then and your pet is Boo?" She waited for the giant man to confirm this but he shook his head.

"No no! Minsc is not a master and Boo is not a pet. He is my companion!" Boo was too busy eating to do much of anything but Minsc nodded as if the animal had agreed with him.

The half high-elf processed that, along with Minsc's insistence on calling her 'little girl'. This Minsc apparently wasn't fond of titles or he wasn't used to them. His accent was that of Rashemi lilt, not that Lilliana had heard overly much of that, and she wasn't sure how they did things there. "Oh, well in that case I am charmed to make your acquaintance Minsc and Boo. I am Lady . . .umm . . I'm Lilliana." She stood to place one hand out for the bald man to shake.

Minsc clasped her palm tightly in his own, pumping her arm so vigorously it felt like Lilliana's teeth were rattling in her mouth. "We think you are a nice girl Lily . . .maybe . . .maybe you know someone that that will help us save wise Dynaheir?" His wide blue eyes were pleading and it seemed at such odds with the rest of his undoubtedly strong appearance. This man was a bit of an enigma to say the least.

_Lily? Ah well, it was much better than 'little girl'. _After the cleric had recovered from the handshake she thought about what Minsc asked. "I saw you talking to the guards here in town yesterday. Did you not find some aid with them?" She was fairly certain she knew the answer already but it was the only thing she could say; the only thing that wouldn't make Jaheira want to choke the living daylights out of her that was.

A bald head lowered as Minsc shook it gravely. "No. Boo said they would help! . . .but . . . the guards told Minsc that they are getting ready for war. My witch wasn't important to him."

_War?!_ She had heard some rumors back in Beregost but . . ._that wasn't true was it? _No one had looked at them funny when they arrived in Nashkel. If there had been hostilities between Amn and the Western Heartlands would their arrival not brook at least an unkind glance from the locals? Then again the town had troubles of it's own already.

Lilliana had heard some of Minsc's words to the soldier yesterday and if that man wouldn't help it was unlikely that any of the other militia would either. Khalid and Jaheira had given her the rundown on Nashkel shortly before they arrived. Other than those at the barracks the small town boasted only a few guards for the Inn and the Belching Dragon Tavern. Most certainly the local farming citizenry wouldn't be able to offer much aid.

With a sharp intake of breath Lilliana tried to fight against her words but they left her mouth anyway. "My companions and I might be able to help." _Oh no! Stupid, stupid, stupid . . . Jaheira is going to kill me!_ She tried to cover her surprise at her own speech with a thin smile.

Minsc's head rose, his face in a wide grin and without warning he picked the half high-elf up and hugged her tightly. "Dynaheir will be saved! We saw your friends yesterday and Boo says they look capable. I don't know this 'capable' but if it's good for Boo, it's good for Minsc . . .thank you Lily!"

He released her and she was gasping for air after the bear hug. "Well . . .I need to talk to those friends you saw before I can do anything. One of them is rather cranky too." There wasn't getting away from it. She'd gone spoken without thinking and now she was going have to hear it from Jaheira. It was no one's fault but her own and she wished she had sewn her mouth shut that morning.

"Cranky?" Minsc asked, scratching at his bald head while Boo went back into hiding. "We don't have this word in Rashemen."

The dawn mistress grinned. "It means she is in a bad mood and probably will be difficult to speak with." So he _was_ from Rashemen. It seemed she wasn't as forgetful as she once thought. Two Wychlaran, witches of the far eastern 'barbarian lands', had come to Candlekeep when Lilliana was ten. They had been accompanied by their guardians though neither was as large as Minsc. _I doubt __**anyone**__ could be as large as Minsc_. The Lathanite amended silently. The voices in memory were rich and exotic, much like that of the collosus before her now.

"Ah yes . . .Minsc knows this 'cranky' now. My witch . . .at times she gets angry with Minsc and calls me a big oaf. Says that Boo is a flea bitten rodent. She won't talk after that for days, just mumbling to herself. Looks at Minsc and Boo with evil eyes . . .except dear Dynaheir would never do evil things! _Never_ but . . . then the evil eyes go away and they are the eyes of my witch again. Sometimes she even says she is sorry for 'being in a bad mood." There was a fondness in his eyes when he spoke of the Wychlaran he was guarding . . and sadness. "I understand if Lily must wait until the evil eyes leave this friend in the bad mood."

* * *

"Who's a fuzzy little Boo?" Imoen cooed, giggling as the hamster squeaked in her palm. She'd been delighted by the new additions and though Jaheira's mood had been damn near squalor the young thief felt that it was more than a fair trade. The sprightly red head was happier still when Minsc let her hold Boo, though he'd kept an eye on both of them while they walked. 

After Lilliana and Jaheira had spoken the druid wasn't pleased to say the least but Imoen thought she might be softening up. Her voice had been more temperate than usual and she didn't seem quite as irate as Imoen had expected. Lilliana tried to retract her agreement of aid to Minsc, saying that she'd explain that they couldn't help him right then. The Harper however refused that outright. She said that once help was offered it should not be revoked.

Khalid smoothed things over further by speaking with Mayor Berrun Ghatskill himself. After five hours of 'discussion' with Minsc the group had figured out in what direction they should look and also configured a time frame with which it would take. Though there were no certanties. The Calimshite had told the mayor that they would return within the week, whether they found this Dynaheir or not. With pretty much everyone agreed they had left. It was also settled, though left unsaid, that their new large friend didn't have to be told that time frame. Angering a berserker, Rashemite, ranger who was a little 'off balance' wasn't wise at all.

A day out from the farmland borders of Nashkel saw them already deep into woodland territory. Kivan was leery of wolves, having seen intensified pack activity all along the Sword Coast in the past three months. Imoen didn't think any _sane_ wolf would want to stick around and listen to the increasingly shrill row that was taking place at the back of the group.

It had started when Lilliana tried to speak with Viconia about her recent introverted mood. The Dark Elf seemed to take great insult at being pried at and between her anger and Lilliana's defense an argument had evolved. From there the source went from the cleric's lack of courage, to complaints on financial handling, to recent additions.

"You failed to tell us he was a half wit!" Viconia screeched, nodding in the direction of the oblivious Minsc. Though not many would believe it the drow had proved more angry over this new arrangement than Jaheira had been. Lilliana wasn't having it however.

"Will you lower your voice? You'll hurt his feelings." The half high-elf reprimanded, trying to keep her own tone at a lower decibel. Though it was evident that task was proving gradually more difficult.

"I will do no such thing! He is no child! Even if he was I'm tired of having to play the minstrel to your band of merry fools!" The drow continued, growing heated with each passing moment. A bright noonday sun wasn't likely improving her mood much either. "Always willing to stick out everyone else's neck to satiate your own need to be the savior of the world!"

"What?! You don't mean that!" Lilliana balked, her expression changing from hurt to anger. "I would never suggest that any one of you do anything I wasn't willing to do myself . . _.alone _if I had to, and . . .and I don't want to be the 'savior of the world' I just want to help a few people in the need. What in the Nine Hells is wrong with that?!"

The level of the argument had reached a loud enough intensity that it had _everyone's_ attention and the group had stopped moving forward altogether. Ajantis was amazed to be frank. No matter how unpleasant Viconia could be Lilliana always was able to shrug it off. In fact Ajantis was more than a little put off by just how much Lilliana excused the drow. Something had happened, though the knight wasn't sure what. He wanted to say that the dark elf was being particularly nasty, but in truth it wasn't any worse than her jibes to the others. It would appear that Lilliana's patience had finally run out.

"Oh, why nothing your _majesty_! How dare a peasant such as I question your _good will_! It is a fortunate thing your father isn't around anymore. I've heard he was as insufferably righteous as you are!" Viconia retorted and she quite obviously wasn't anticipating the rather strong slap that Lilliana delivered to the side of her face. Everyone half expected the drow to go after the dawn mistress but she didn't. She just stood there with a hand on her cheek.

Lilliana was visibly shaking, though whether it was in anger or shock no one was really sure. "Viconia . . I . . I'm sorry! I . . . I didn't . . ." With her voice lowered considerably she moved forward as if she was going to touch Viconia's face. The drow slapped her hand away and backed up.

"Get away from me _half-breed_! I've been infected enough by your intentions." Viconia took another step back. "I will subject myself to them no longer. Don't try to follow me . . .I won't hesitate to stop you . . . forcibly!" With that she turned on her heel and moved away from the group at a surprisingly rapid pace.

Lilliana went to go after her anyway, calling her name. "No! Viconia! Wait, please! I didn't mean it! I'm sorry! Please come back! VICONIA!!!"

Ajantis came up behind the cleric to place a gentle hand on her arm. "Let her go. She's not unaccustomed to travelling alone and it's a short distance back to Nashkel. When she calms herself down she might be waiting there for us when we get back." His brown eyes looked down at the near panicked girl with a great kindness. "She'll be alright."

He thought he had Lilliana pretty much pegged by now. She would get teary eyed, try to compose herself, agree with him and then persevere ever onward. The first thing the young cleric did, however, was to jerk from his grasp. "Not like _you_ care!"

Ajantis reeled backward from her words. "Lilliana surely you know that I would never wish her ill. I make no secret of the fact that I didn't like her but . . .she _was_ your friend . . .for your part in it. I wouldn't wish to see her hurt when that would upset _you_."

"Oh yes, _me_ . . .always _me_ isn't it? Well what about _her_? She was a better person than any of you gave her credit for. Now she's gone. She's gone because the one person here that wanted her around drove her away. Viconia was my friend and I slapped her in the face, literally and figuratively. I knew she didn't mean what she said and still I let it get to me." Lilliana's angry glower faded away, her eyes traveling longingly to the line of trees that Viconia had departed into only moments before.

"You've been nothing but patient with her for longer than I think anyone would ever be. Time and again you've been a friend to her when she clearly didn't want one. She spoke ill of you and your father and you slapped her. Were I not a gentleman I would have done far worse had I been you." Ajantis dismissed his trainee's outburst as a product of the abrupt arrival of her melancholy.

"Lil . . .look. After we find Minsc's witch we have to go back ta' Nashkel anyways. Ajantis is right, Vicky'll probably be there sulkin' or somethin'. You can make your peace with her then . . .'kay?" Imoen tried, Boo content to sit in her small palm and snack. Her pretty green eyes were as sad as her sister's when Lilliana just sighed and trudged forward.

"Sundown will be upon us soon. We should cover as much distance as we can before we are forced to make camp. Jaheira, Khalid?" The half high-elf asked of the Harpers. They both nodded as the company began to move forward. Whenever Ajantis or Imoen tried to cheer the Lathanite up she rebuffed them. Minsc was lost in his own thoughts after Boo had been returned to him and the other three wisely stayed silent.

Travel had brought them near to the edges of the coast and the heavy scent of the sea grew thicker. When the burning orb of daylight finally made it's descent down past the line of the jagged horizon the group had made it quite a distance. Though much ground was covered their journey had been of a silence even the ranger, Kivan, found unpleasant.

A small camp was set up for the night and the companions had gathered around for a supper of rabbit stew and stale bread. Joviality had returned in a minute fashion with the ending of the day but still the cleric amongst them was as hushed as the grave. After eating she'd briefly requested to leave the camp for her night rituals to Lathander and some much needed solitude. No one had disputed her request but Kivan made sure that he kept a stealthy eye on her.

The area near the camp was hilly and sparsely wooded. Lilliana had perched herself on a small knoll, overlooking a long natural pond. She tucked her thinly muscled legs under her as she began to chant in a whispering tone. Her language wasn't one that Kivan recognized but it was likely spoken with rarity outside the Lathanite faith anyway.

"If you insist on surveillance you could at least come up here and sit with me." Lilliana responded, never once turning about or giving any other indication that she had felt the wood elf's presence. He smiled to himself at that.

"Your skills of detection are getting better." With quiet steps the wood elf moved forward, taking a seat next to the half high-elf. With a deep exhalation as he sat he looked up at the night sky. "Peaceful is it not? I have to wonder though what sunlight it is that you pray to at night." He shifted so that he could turn and look at her, though his gaze wasn't returned. Lilliana's eyes were focused on the heavens and she smiled; the first evidence of contentment on her face since Viconia had left their company.

"There _is_ a sun . . . you see?" She pointed to the starlit blanket of black and Kivan leaned close so that he could travel the length of her finger to the crescent shaped sliver of light that hung in company with the stars. "The sun reflects it's beauty upon the moon and moon then casts it's lunar glow on Abertoril. When you are one of the faithful you never have to go very far to seek Lathander's glory . . .it's just not quite as warm in the hours of darkness." When she finally did turn to face him she had lifted one brow sardonically. "But you already knew that. So why the ploy for coversation?"

Kivan refused to meet her stare, finding it a little too probing for his taste but he answered her nonetheless. "For one as chatty as yourself I was beginning to worry that you'd been struck mute, as little as you've spoken recently." There was huff from beside him and he looked cautiously in the direction of his companion.

"Lilliana I won't pretend that you and I are close or that I understood your relationship with the forsaken, but surely . . . you have to know that she couldn't have remained in our company _forever_. The drow are a race apart and even those few that have come to the surface often find that the chaos of their former life is inescapable. You gave her a friendship that I think is quite rare, whether I agree with your sentiments or not. It lasted much longer than anyone would have expected. That is something the _both_ of you should be thankful for. You should take comfort in that and let her go."

Late spring crickets were chittering in the grass and for long moments it was the only sound on the knoll. Then Lilliana spoke, her voice distant. "I'm not a fool. I know how the world works, but no matter how unrealistic my hopes were for Viconia I had to keep them close to my heart. I have to believe that things aren't, well, that they aren't 'doomed.' I knew what she was. Not one moment passed when I looked at her and forgot she was a dark elf. I know most of you _did_ think that, even Imoen, but none of you saw her the way I did. I do _not_ blame you for that. It was a natural reaction, though unfortunate, but there was someone worth knowing behind those ruby eyes of hers. There still is."

Lilliana didn't seem to expect an answer and Kivan didn't give her one. Silence hung between them and the wood elf lost himself in the natural music of nature. When Lilliana sighed the normally gentle tone sounded like a cannon blast when compared to the calmness of the night. Kivan's skin tingled at the noise and the sensation ran up his face and to the pointed tips of his ears. Thankfully the half high-elf hadn't been looking at him and wasn't aware that she'd shocked him from his reverie.

Her breathing paused for a moment as if she was collecting her thoughts and Kivan watched as her eyes twitched slightly. "I think . . . I let her go too easily. She was correct, I'm too righteous. All this time I pretend that I'm always at least _thinking_ of doing what is best, what's right and then like some great hypocrite I partially agree with _you_. I hope that she's in Nashkel when we get back, and if she is I'm going to speak with her. Not just with my heart this time, but with my mind." She shook her head and a long lock of hair fell loose from her ponytail, hanging down to obscure one pale cheek.

To be honest Kivan was more than a little surprised that she had spoken so openly with _him_ and more so that he had listened. Before their words were either brief or callous; often they were both. The last time they had spoken together so calmly had been the morning he'd pledged himself to the group's company.

When she spoke of herself and the drow the anger he expected was gone and had been replaced with a rather sad acceptance. He knew that line of thinking well, though the cause had been very different for _him_. Deheriana's loss had went along at a very similar pace. Raging anger followed by an empty sadness; the old self-resentment flaring up on occasion.

"For what it's worth I don't think you let her go too easily. Had Ajantis not spoken up, and had no one else made a move to stop you, I imagine you would have gone off after her. Despite any warning she herself may have given you." He almost placed a hand on her shoulder, but he caught himself in time and abruptly pulled his hand back.

"Well . . .I have interrupted your chanting ritual long enough. I hope you don't expect me to leave you out here unattended but I _will_ remove myself from your sight and pretend I was never noticed."

Lilliana laughed and Kivan thought it a pleasant sound after so much awkward quiet that day. "I am certain _you'd_ like that more than I. That way you could maintain the illusion that you are undetecable by mere mortals." She looked up at him, green eyes twinkling merrily and her appearance was outright sly.

Kivan tried not to smile but it was impossible not to. "_That _is the Lilliana I'm used to. Alright then. I'll remain here, in silence." Settling down once more he watched the cleric as she began her chanting again.

"Thank you." She spoke so smoothly that he barely noticed that the words weren't part of her prayers. "For listening."

He nodded his head, hood titled back to reveal his rich brown hair. "You're welcome." Those were the last words spoken until the pair returned to camp some hours later, looking far more at peace than they were when they left.

* * *

"We eat her NOW! I'm hungry!" A guttural growl followed by a dog-like whimper sounded high above Dynaheir Angolan's prone form. It had been three days now and already it felt like an eternity. She barely had the strength to lift her face, regretting every malodorous breath of air she took into her dry and tortured lungs. 

_Minsc! Oh thou strong guardian, where art thee?!_ She worried as much for the safety of her Berkerer friend and watchmen as she worried for herself. Those filthy gnolls had snuck up upon them while they had rested. They had some sort of dampening bracers and with those wrapped and locked firmly around the young Wychlaran's wrists her magic was useless.

Whatever luck had been granted to the hyena faced monsters must have been rubbing off on the Rashemite witch in some fashion, because they hadn't killed her yet.

Though The Goddess knew how much longer such a mystery would continue.

"No! We save her for Ten Hammer. He say he want witch; impress _big_ boss with. She not for eating!" Another growl from the one the mocha skinned witch had come to suspect was the 'leader' Subsequent to that there were many yips and yowls of protest but finally the noise drifted away.

Her new _room _was little more than a hole, though she'd heard her captors refer to it as 'the cellar' many times. It had been shored up with rough stones and the dirt floor was stained with blotches that the Wychlaran was sure were blood. Not only did it smell of decomposition but there was also the stale odor of urine and feces permeating the area. Many times she had to think that she was elsewhere for fear of going mad.

_Dynaheir would close her amber eyes and imagine that she was on the parapets of Citadel Rashemen. The proud peaks of the Sunrise Mountains cradling the ancient temple; long a place of refuge for her kin in the Unapproachable East. From this imagined vantage point she could see Lake Tirulan and the much larger Lake Mulsantir. Little more than glimmering pools from such a height; the rivers that touched them stretching out like fingers of wavering crystal. _

_Wind circled around her, warm this time of year, as it blew her dark burgundy hair around her sun kissed face. Behind Dynaheir, to the west, lay the decievingly empty Endless Wastes; their barren land reflecting the sun to make for a blistering brightness. From that harsh sea of stone and soil came a cry, rising up the mountains to pierce her ears._

The vision was gone and actual screaming eliminated any remnants of it. There was a woman, or perhaps a young girl that had been brought to this gnoll encampment. Dynaheir tried not to hear her, the heart she had guarded for so many years crying out in tune with the suffering of this unknown victim. There was little she could do and each terror filled shriek tore at the Wychlaran like a knife.

Finally the screaming ended and she could hear the monsters eating and laughing. Covering her mouth with a filthy hand she allowed herself to weep. _By the Three! Please aid me!

* * *

_

**28'th of Mirtul**

Though it had been risky, Sir Ryan Trawl thought it riskier yet to leave the citizens in the ruined settlement. Instead he'd sent four of his men to accompany the settlers by boat down the River Reaching to the port town of Scornubel; just southeast of Hills Edge past where the river ran through the Reaching Wood. There they could get food and possibly some decent rest. Now standing on the western bank he could only hope that Helm had watched over their progress.

The river itself was proving a hazard to his own contigent as well. After a heavy winter and a rainy spring the water had swollen up past it's normal banks. It rushed down from it's source, the Sunset Mountains, like a riptide. Even by barge it had been dangerous to traverse and it was careful going all that morning.

"Sir Trawl! The last of the marchers have made it across. On your orders we have left six watchers at the settlement along with Shield Maiden Firecam. Sir Markus thinks we should rest a moment before we continue." Squire Anomen Delyrn informed his superior and Sir Ryan smiled down at the young man from his vantage upon a tall Sembian mount.

"I quite agree with Sir Markus. Make it so Squire Delryn. We break for one quarter. Rest and plenty of bread and water. Go over this morning's strategy with the squires again before departing. They will need to remember well how best to serve their knights. I trust in you to set an example. Then at second quarter's mark we head out." Squire Delryn nodded once in affirmation and set off again. He was a good lad and Sir Ryan was pleased to have him along.

Many citizens would call giant-kin stupid and oft times they lived up to that assumption. However many years spent on the battlefield and many more listening to the tales of older and wiser knights had shown Sir Ryan something different. They were simple minded creatures but their instinct for survival was no less than that of any other living thing. They could think things through and take precautions, especially in a land to which they were native, and when a chance for easy food was presented to them they were smart enough to take it. In battle they used their massive size to their advantage and centuries of skirmishes with rival clans had given way to a natural born understanding of fighting tactics.

The Trielta Hills were a natural choice for a hill giant's safe haven. There were many caves and pockets in the grassy rocks and the hills themselves were nestled between the Forest of Wyrms and the Reaching Wood. They were adjacent to a water way and close but not _too_ near to some human settlements in the area; providing opportunities for raids. Hills Edge was the closest settlement and made the perfect target. To be honest, Ryan Trawl was amazed that the settlers themselves hadn't figured out where the Hillgnasher Clan was coming from.

Talented though the knights of the Order of the Radiant Heart were they weren't flawless and taking the fight to the giant's home would give their enemies the advantage over them. Needless to say it was a bold move Sir Ryan Trawl had laid out with the other knight's at dawn, but after three mornings of playing cat and mouse perhaps bold moves were necessary.

Rousing from the brief moment of rest the large company readied themselves for the their trek into the hills. Leaving behind small pockets of members in minute camps was typical and yet another group of two squires and the aging Sir Markus was left at the river bank with the horses. The mounts would only hinder them when the Order moved through the winding paths of the Trielta Hills and it was better to move on foot. A downside to fighting without mounts was of course speed but it would have to be sacrificed if they were to come upon the giants without being noticed, for surely horses would draw attention.

Sun beat down on the backs of the knights, clerics and squires as they came under the shadow of the hills. Young Sir Cadril wiped a gloved hand across his sweaty brow. It wasn't even summer yet and already the armor given him by the Order was proving uncomfortable. He shot dagger eyes behind him at Squire Delryn who walked beside his leader and was apparently bothered very little by the rising warmth. _Rotten fetcher! _He thought bitterly, having never received nearly as much consideration from the admired and high ranking Sir Ryan as Anomen always had.

A thin dirt road ran from the dwarf village of Corm Orp to the fishing town of Elturel. It passed close to the hills and smaller paths broke away from the main road, leading to more than a few old abandoned iron mines. The loss of functioning iron mines and subsequently the increasingly difficult aqusition of _quality_ iron seemed to be something of an epidemic in the Western Heartlands, especially along the Sword Coast, but that wasn't what interested the Order about the mines.

_Why would a giant clan choose to make a more comfortable home in a natural cave if they had a readily available and empty space to use? _It would seem likely the giant's had made one of the empty mines into their residence. The question of course was which one. Sir William thought it would have to be a larger mine for obvious reasons and Sir Thaine was of the mind that the giants would pick one farthest from the road to escape easy detection. It was Squire Rupert that named a probable mine.

"Could be Boralai Ironworks. Been abandoned for years. Used to be the largest around here, iron or otherwise. Then the miners started going missing and everyone got scared off. Thought it was haunted, cursed or the like. About two miles or more from the road." The red headed squire slapped at a pesky black fly and when he finally looked up everyone was watching him. With a sheepish shrug he added. "I think."

"Squire Rupert. I had no idea you were so versed in the terrain of the Western Heartlands. Been reading encyclopedias in your spare time?" Sir Cadril inquired, his tone pleasant enough, but his eyes looked at the squire like he was an insect.

"His father was a travelling merchant before his retirement. Isn't that right Squire Rupert?" Anomen commented, smiling at the red headed young man and glaring at Cadril in turn. Rupert nodded, still uncomfortable with drawing attention to himself.

There was an odd moment of silence before Sir Ryan spoke up, clearing his throat.

"It matters very little _where_ Squire Rupert acquired this information. What matters is that now the Order also has such knowledge. So we will investigate this Boralai Ironworks and Squire Rupert will receive an accolade if our Hillgnasher Clan _is_ indeed holed up there." He smiled kindly at the now beaming squire before the search began for the road leading to Boralai.

Frayed rope swung from a dilapidated wooden arch, marking the entrance to the mine's trail. An old footbridge had fallen into the shallow creek that at one time it had been meant to cross. Anomen's thick boots slopped down into the murky water and he wrinkled his nose at the distasteful odor of sulfur. He turned about to maintain a watchful gaze over the younger squires that he had been placed in charge of. A few were nervous, eyes traveling across the rounded rocks of the small stone valley the contingent had traveled into. "Worry not Squire Nathaniel, you are a servant of the Order of the Most Radiant Heart now. Carry yourself with nothing but pride and focus." He said to one of the more twitchy young men. Nathaniel nodded and walked forward, head held a little higher.

Two large iron grated doors ran across the mouth of the cave, both rusted and one hanging off it's hinges. A railtrack ran inside the mine and a few rotted wooden mining carts had been left outside and their remnants were scattered across the stones. Ghostly was a word that quite accurately described the appearance of Boralai Ironworks and Anomen couldn't help the uneasy shiver that ran up his spine; he hoped no one had noticed. Least of all the other squires or that bastard Cadril.

No outward sign that _any_ creatures had taken refuge here was apparent but that meant very little. If there was any proof it was much more likely it would be found _within_ the mine and not _without_. Sir Ryan and Sir Armand, the two highest ranking knights of this particular campaign, made pairings of six to travel together inside the mine but soon enough it was proven that wouldn't be necassary.

They had come upon the mine when the Hillgnasher Clan was out and that became obvious when a loud angry roar echoed off the stones. All eyes rose to find several massive hill giants on the rim of the rock valley. "Little pink ones invade our home!" Came the reverberating shout, followed by several others.

"Raaarrrgghh! Thief humans!"

"Kill the pink ones!"

"Smash them like bugs!"

"Darrr! Kill little metal men!"

Not all of the giants had been out and several more began to emerge from the mine, big clubs out and ready. The knights formed a defensive circle, squires at their sides while the clerics were in the middle, calling for their conjurations. "In the name of the Order of the Most Radiant Heart we have come to request cessation of your . . " Sir Armand began but was interrupted as the giants surged forward to attack.

Dodging deftly around attempts at being stomped into the ground Sir Ryan moved with a polish not often found in heavily armored humans. He raised a massive two handed sword and swung it in an arc, aiming for the sensitive skin behind one of the giant's ankles. It roared angrily as the enchanted metal bit into it's flesh and turned around trying to kick, pommel and punch at the rapidly moving knight. "Stand _still_ pink one!"

"I think not." Sir Ryan retorted. He rolled to the ground, moving past the giant's large fat feet just as the monster's club came crashing down and barely missed the knight. Before he could escape the giant's grasp he found himself held tightly. Sir Ryan let out a surprised yell that soon became a gurgle as the giant began to crush the human in his fist. The sword Sir Ryan was holding fell to the ground as he struggled to get free. He tried to shout for his squire but there wasn't enough air in his lungs.

Anomen watched as the giant attacked Sir Ryan, intending on squashing his mentor. "FOUL FIEND!" He screamed, his flail held at the ready. Running across the stones he leaped over the arm of a fallen giant intent on reaching Sir Ryan. With an agility he didn't know he possessed Squire Delryn grabbed the edge of a giant's kilt as it knelt down to grab at another knight. He clambered up the now agitated giant's back and held on even as the monster stood to it's full height.

From there the young lord jumped from that giant to the shoulder of the one holding Sir Ryan, scrambling to keep from falling to the hard ground below. The tall monster let out a surprised grunt and tried to grab at the knight that had somehow gotten on it's arm. With a vicious swung Anomen sent his flail into the giant's face; jagged spikes biting into it's eyes. It dropped Sir Ryan and flung Anomen from it's arm as it wailed and thrashed about.

Sir Ryan hit the ground and Squire Delryn screamed as he felt his ribs break from the hard contact _he_ had endured. Adrenaline ran through his veins and helped to quell the pain but he still needed rapid curing. Sir Ryan lay on the ground motionless and Anomen let out a strangled cry of grief. Anxious to take vengeance for his fallen superior he called for the healing conjuration of Helm upon himself, paying no heed to the recovering giant that was coming for it's attacker.

Several skulls hung from it's belt, marking the giant as chieftan, and he would not suffer the humiliation of his kin from being defeated by a _human_. With a hand over one ruined eye it lumbered towards the chanting squire. "I _kill you _for that pink one!" It roared, lifting it's foot to crush it's target.

Anomen came out of the conjuration, his ribs healed enough for him to move, and dodged to the side as the giant's foot came down. Grabbing for his weapon his hands found Sir Ryan's sword instead. The giant's foot was hoisted up again and Anomen snarled with anger as he raised the sword even as the massive appendage descended upon him. He angled the sword upwards and just as the foot would have crushed the squire it was impaled instead on the large two handed weapon.

With a wail of pain the Hillgnasher chieftan lost his balance, arms flailing in the air vainly as he fell backwards. The massive crash made the ground rumble loudly and Anomen found it hard to keep his footing. With Sir Ryan's sword still in his hands and anger burning in his bright sapphire eyes he stalked towards the giant.

"You have taken the last life you ever will foul creature! So as you have beheaded innocent citizens so too shall I see that same fate upon _you_! Taste Helm's judgement!" He yelled as he jumped upon the fallen giant's chest. The monster's eyes went wide as the squire raised the massive sword above him, determination on his face. The sword came down again and again at the giant's neck, sending up sprays of blood.

The chieftan's body jerked even after it's death for moments longer before at last the giant lay still. Anomen had severed the head completely in his rage and it had rolled against a rough rock wall, a pool of blood underneath.

Breathing heavily the squire jumped from the dead body and went to Sir Ryan, laying the man's sword at his side. "Oh Sir Ryan . . . I am so very sorry." Anomen hung his head in shame, craddling the knight against him. "I failed you." There was a choked breath from the knight and Anomen nearly shouted in surpise.

"Can't . . .kill . . .me . . .that . . .easy." Sir Ryan coughed, looking up at his squire. The young warrior priest squandered no measures in calling upon a healing conjuration for his mentor, taking care to watch out for enemies to come at them from the battle that still raged on.

* * *

Imoen played with a strand of hair as she looked up at the ominous bastion across the ravine. Even the bridge that crossed over to it made her feel uncomfortable, hanging as it did above an unfathomably deep chasm; uninviting white-water rapids at the base. She didn't see another means across but she had to ask anyway. "Is there a . . .ya know . . a _safer lookin' _way to get on the other side?" 

"Do not be ridiculous. This bridge is as safe a way as any other . . .unless you would prefer to swim across the river below?" Jaheira offered, already knowing what the answer would be and when Imoen shook her head the druid nodded tersely. "I thought not. Though I do have to say it is suspicious that this is the only bridge and so well maintained too. We should remain on our guard. It is surely a fool who walks into a volcano without having first summoned a portal."

Minsc screwed up his face at the metaphor. "Boo, what does the pretty druid mean? I see no volcano!" The hampster squeaked where he had been hidden in Minsc's pocket and the large beserker nodded. "Boo is so wise. Jaheira means that we shouldn't go forward without being prepared! Beware sneaky evil, Minsc and Boo will be ready for you with sword and fist . . .and hampster teeth!"

Imoen tittered, the Rashemite's abnormality comforting in a way that nothing else could be. Jaheira shook her head and rolled her eyes as Khalid gave her an amused smile, turning to address the bald giant. "M-Most agreed m-my friend."

"Be a little more quiet then Minsc, else the 'evil' might hear you." Ajantis added from beside the beserker and Minsc nodded.

"The knight is wise . . .almost as much as Boo." He smiled down at the smaller man who was trying not to laugh but couldn't help letting a little chortle escape.

Despite the fact that the group was for the most part in relative good spirits it gave the impression of artificiality. In a place such as this it wasn't hard to imagine why. Even the ruins of the Ulcaster School were more animated compared to the lifelessness of the large stronghold. The size of the structure alone was eerie enough, appearing as though it had been carved from the rough walls of the canyon by sinister gods with sharp knives; making crude shapes with each flick of their wrist.

Kivan looked it over and suspected that it's architecture was indicative of the building techniques of the mid eight-hundreds, nearly five centuries past. Large pieces of the sandstone structure were gone or exceedingly wind worn; it's tallest tower missing one entire side. It was assured that no gnoll had made it; though Kivan had not heard of any keep or fortress having been erected in this particular area of the Cloudpeak Mountains.

The sun may have been bright but it touched the rocks harshly, revealing an area quite barren and it did nothing to warm the cold apprehension that Lilliana was feeling. Wind howled through the thin gorge they were in; shrieking as it passed over the massive structure and the uneven base of rock it sat upon. One solitary rope bridge led from a break in the jagged hills to the other side of the river far below them. It swayed lightly and creaked as it did so. No birds flew overhead or even made any sound and the Lathanite shivered once more. She didn't like the presence of this place in the least. It felt almost as if the group was standing before the gateway of the netherworld, awaiting judgment from Kelemvor, God of the Dead and the Damned.

Both Minsc and Kivan, talented as rangers and more so as men of the wilds, had confirmed that all the signs they had been following suggested this _was_ where the gnolls made their home. There was no oppourtunity for Lilliana to stall by trying to make sure because they _already_ were certain. She shared a look with her sister and the two girls moved closer to each other, taking comfort in their proximity.

Imoen didn't have to ask Lilliana to know that they both were thinking the same thing. _I wish I'd never had to come here. _It was also apparent they felt guilty about their cowardice and it was that self-reproach that pushed them forward. There was still an innocent woman to rescue after all.

Ajantis offered to investigate the strength of the bridge. "I will go at the fore ladies." The knight announced as he moved ahead of the sisters. Lilliana and Imoen both smiled shyly, still quite taken with Ajantis and how much of a gentleman he was. This time it was Kivan that rolled his eyes at them.

With a hand on the ropes at each side the tall Waterhavian made measured steps ahead, constantly on guard. He sighed with relief as he reached the middle of the bridge. "Alright. I think you can start across now." His voice carried back as it echoed off the rough gorge walls.

Lilliana went first, Imoen right behind her as they moved hand in hand. The dawn mistress felt more than a little nervous about the loud creaking the wooden planks made under the weight of her booted feet. Ajantis was no feather weight and he'd made it across alright, but when Lilliana _herself_ was on the swaying bridge somehow that wasn't very reassuring. She imagined the ropes suddenly snapping and saw herself in her mind's eye plummeting to the rapids below. Shaking her head and angry at herself she pressed forward, gripping Imoen's hand a little tighter.

Ajantis had made it to the other side and leaned against the wooden rails at the end of the bridge; taking a breath that he didn't realise he had been holding. "Keep going ladies." He encouraged with a smile. Behind his back a set of wide stairs began to spiral up to the fortress. The knight turned about and glanced at it, an uncharacterisitc unease creeping up his spine.

With the sisters now standing next to the Waterhavian the rest of the group made it across effortlessly and again Lilliana felt an angry shame at her fear. No matter how many times she made appeals to Lathander she remained easily frightened in anxious situations. She was beginning to think it was some sort of test, one that she would have to conquer on her own.

The group began their trek up the stairwell cautiously, even Minsc was holding his large frame in check. It wasn't the first time Lilliana had been surprised at how well he carried himself. About halfway up Imoen leaned over, hands resting on her knees. "Give me a sec guys." She panted, her strawberry blonde hair matted to the side of her face with a sheen of sweat. "I feel like I'm gonna yak!"

Lilliana rested a hand at her sister's back and reached for her water canteen, offering Imoen a sip. The human waved her away however, determined that if everyone else could make it alright so could she. It really _was_ no more than a second and Imoen was on the move again.

Hugging the uneven side of the canyon the stairs seemed overly large and spaced apart wide enough to make traversing up them a chore. Khalid found himself wondering who, or perhaps more importantly _what_, the stronghold had originally been built for. _Giants? _When the group finally reached the top they were greeted by a littered courtyard.

Ruined barrels were scattered amongst the dirtied tan cobbles; forests of mold growing over the rotted wood. There was a large break in the flooring but it seemed that someone had positioned planks across it. Imoen groaned inwardly at the thought of walking across them. This 'Dynaheir' was proving to be more trouble than she could possibly be worth. The red head hoped that she appreciated being rescued.

Any gnolls that had likely placed the planks were no where in sight. It made Kivan more nervous than it would have had there been an _army_ of them in the courtyard. At least then he would have a better idea of exactly what kind of numbers they were up against.

Gnolls were always thought to be barbaric, savage, and brutal creatures. Though not unintelligent and in fact could prove very resourceful when it came to setting traps for their prey. They fed on weaker gnolls and other smaller creatures of flesh. Kivan expected to detect the odor of rotting meat , or see trace evidence of such eating habits almost as soon as they came up the stairs. When that didn't happen he had to question if the Rashemite hadn't been mistaken about what had taken his witch.

Unless this tribe of gnolls was led by a flind, or worse a group of flinds. While not as large as their nearly seven foot tall counterparts they were much more intelligent. As a subspecies of gnoll they also were found leading small bands of the muscled hyena-faced warriors. Now that the wood elf ranger thought it over it began to make sense. It would explain why the normally nomadic species would have taken up residence at a man made structure; one considerably out of sight from seeking eyes at that.

Jaheira had knelt down to the stone floor of the exposed courtyard, the looming shadow of the massive stronghold darkening her features. With both hands placed against the cobbles she chanted briefly; looking up at the group with a grim face when she had finished.

"There is little nature still alive here. Even before these gnolls arrived I think this had already been a dark place." Indeed the connection the druid always had to the Oak Father felt cut off ever since the group entered the ravine. "It wouldn't suprise me if this had been a temple for one of the darker gods during it's creation. Whatever presence I feel . . . it could have called the gnolls here and it is possible it might give them added strength." Jaheira amended, nearly jumping when Minsc's loud response rang out.

"Minsc and Boo don't like this place either. Boo says we must get fair Dynaheir soon! Before a gnoll makes a Rashemen dinner roll out of her! Be careful though. There is evil 'round every corner; Take care not to step in any!" His booming voice echoed off the walls and Jaheira hissed at him to be quiet and he shrugged his shoulders, looking rather sheepish after that.

Lilliana had been taking a drink from her canteen and nearly suffocated on the water when she started laughing. Ajantis slapped at her back until she caught her breath again. Imoen was all smiles as she winked in Jaheira's direction.

"Don't mind her. She's just cranky cause Khalid had last night's watch and she couldn't spend any 'quality time' with him." Imoen felt rather pleased with herself when the Harper's faces _both_ went red at that. _So much for bein' some naive kid, eh Miss J?_ The smug grin the human girl wore on her face disappeared when she heard a series of yips and howls echoing from deeper within the stronghold's grounds. "Well . . ._that_ can't be good."

* * *

The Order's contingent searched the derelict mine, hoping to find some of the stolen food there, but they came out empty handed. Anomen Delryn stood outside it now, glancing at the battlefield. Bodies of no less than fifteen hill giant's lay dead under the setting sun. The twenty two year old squire tried not to stare at the corpses but found himself morbidly drawn to them. 

Sir Ryan Trawl was recovering well considering the man had almost died and Anomen knew he should be thrilled by that . . .but he couldn't manage more than a cursory acknowledgement of pleasure at his mentor's survival. Sir Ryan's near death had sent Anomen into a rage that reminded him far too much of his alcoholic father. Only Cor Delryn would have never have beheaded a giant in his anger. In all honesty when the senior Lord was in his cups he would barely be able to walk a strength line. Instead of a fancy for spirits it was fury that Anomen had become drunk on, and that was more dangerous than anything his father was capable of.

"Squire Anomen! Why the long face? The Order has triumphed here today; the Hillgnasher Giants are no more." Squire Rupert was looking pleased with himself, not that it was unwarranted. Not only would he receive an acolade for suggesting the correct location but he had done quite well in battle. Rupert's boyish countenance was marked with red cheeks, his eyes bright with excitement.

Surely when they were back in Athkatla there would be much praise for Squire Rupert. Awards would be given the boy that would bring him ever closer to knighthood. Closer than Anomen was. Far too often lately he felt as if he was being held back. Even a squire of no more than sixteen winters was earning more accolades than _he_ had. "My _'long face' _is none of your concern squire! Go see to your knight and leave me be!" Anomen snapped, more loudly than he had intended and Rupert looked rather hurt by it. The red headed young man nodded all the same and left Anomen's side. He knew that Rupert looked up to him but he couldn't help his melancholy.

While his continued lack of title did upset him it was his lack of self control that he'd exhibited today that was worrying on his conscience. Anomen would garner much praise over defeating the Hillgnasher chieftan but it didn't feel right. He had lost his temper to the brink of madness and his alarm at his own behavior outweighed any personal pride he felt.

"Squire Anomen, please . . .please come here a moment." Sir Ryan wheezed out, holding a hand to his side while a cleric of Helm continued his ministrations upon him. The aging knight was seated rather uncomfortably on a large boulder, his left arm and chest wrapped tightly in bound dressings. Another bandage was pressed against his head, soaked with king's-leaf juice to alleviate some of his pain. "I want to thank you for your timely actions." The knight began and Anomen smiled at him.

"I am just grateful you are well." That much was true. Anomen doubted there was any other in the Order that would have treated him so favorably. Sir Armand and Sir Markus were good enough fellows and very accomplished knights but the relationship Anomen had with them was very proper and he would dare say stiff. With Sir Ryan there was the propriety and the honor to be found between two men both serving in the Order of the Most Radiant Heart but there was also a genuine fondness. There were times when Anomen almost saw Sir Ryan as family more so than he did his superior.

"That remains to be seen." Sir Ryan grinned through his pain, and his self amusement helped to ease Anomen's spirits. Apparently not enough so that Sir Ryan didn't notice his squire's ill mood. "What is it Squire Anomen? Surely you must feel a great measure of pride. You rescued me, killed the chieftan and managed yourself in mêlée with a noble aptitude."

The young man nodded but he refused to meet the upward glance of his adviser. "Yes, of course. The Order prevailed this day and I . . .I am pleased but . . . " He sighed deeply, searching for his words. When the cleric that was treating Sir Ryan moved away to another patient Anomen felt that he could finally speak more freely.

"There is such rage in me sometimes. I fear that there may come a day when my anger controls _me_ more than I control _it_. Today, when I thought you had been killed . . . I went after that chieftan until his head was completely severed. Were that I could tell myself it was the heat of battle but . . .I don't think that's all of it."

Sir Ryan thought over the words of his squire and nodded. He remembered his own worries as a youth and how _his _superior, Prelate Wessalen, had told him of his duties and how such problems must be overcome. "Anger can serve you well if you use it properly. With that said I can certainly understand that you would be worried if you feel that you can't control such emotions, especially in battle, but you have to remember who you are. You are a lord of Athkatlan nobility, you are member of the Order, and you are a servant to the Great Watcher. In all these things you are required to rise above your troubles; to be greater than yourself. That doesn't mean however that you cannot trust in Helm and the Order to see you through. We are brothers in arms, you and I. So let us celebrate our success today and perhaps that will remove some of your apprehension."

Anomen nodded, happy to have the knight as his leader. "Yes. I suppose that would be wise." Now after he had cleared his mind of his anxieties he _did_ feel better and Sir Ryan was right. If he ever hoped to be successful he must learn to overcome trivial matters, regardless of how serious they appeared to be in the interim.

* * *

Tempered steel met the vicious curve of a large halberd as Khalid fought against a massive gnoll; the creatures height and bulk towering over that of the medium sized half-gold elf . After a briefly worded prayer to Silvanus the warrior Harper was combating with aplomb. When the gnolls had descended from seemingly every corner of the stronghold he had been a little leery of the amount of enemies. Even now a swarm of them were around him and he constantly had to watch his back while he fought with his front. 

There was a heat to be had in battle, an energy that crackled over the skin like a pleasant sort of lightning. Bathed as Khalid was in this force his feelings of unease were washed away by the roar of his testosterone filled veins. He moved within his armor as if it was little more than a phantom creation around him. Making it's weight his own he pushed against the gnoll, even as the creature meant to shove him back. _Not today barbaric creature, not today._

With more clothing and grayer skin than the others the gnoll Khalid had engaged in battle seemed to be a leader amongst the clan. Though this wouldn't give the creature any gain with a practiced Harper, one who had faced off against _much_ worse than a flind. Nithryon was a well made blade. It had the balance of an elven weapon and the steady weight found in items of dwarven make. Khalid was one with his favored sword and when they moved together they were a force to be reckoned with, just ask Firkraag.

A memory of the arrogant red dragon flitted through Khalid's mind and he smiled when the words of Gorion could be heard in that vision of the past. "_The size to make those before them tremble, until they open their mouths and reveal a stupidity on par with their conceit."_

The gnoll noticed Khalid's smile and sneered. "You laugh now elf, but we see what you do when I stick head on pole!" The halberd wielded by the monster came down and missed Khalid close enough that the half-gold elf could feel the wind of it's passage through his chain mail.

In the past the warrior would have tried to keep a close lookout on Lilliana and Imoen, but both girls had proven that they were becoming capable of taking care of themselves in combat. To watch them while he was so engaged would lessen his efficacy and make the sisters nervous. So when he heard the rapid succession of arrows followed by the hum of a short sword he knew it was Imoen and the grin he had been wearing persisted. "I-I'd be l-laughing then t-too g-gnoll!" He retorted to the flind's empty threat of decapitating him.

He could hear his wife's thick Tethyrian voice ringing out with her druidic summons even as her staff swung through the air. Jaheira was always a striking female but when she was fighting she held a magnificence that all but struck Khalid voiceless. She came alive with the rush of battle and was every bit the vision of Mielikki, Goddess of Nature herself. Without looking in her direction Khalid could imagine her. A vision of natural beauty brought to life by combat.

Slowly the large mass of gnolls that had come upon them was beginning to thin but it was still hard for the companions to see one another. All except Minsc whose height was as equal to that of the monsters he was fighting as any man could be. The bald giant's face was wide with a giddy grin; shouting both battle cries and words of assurance to a Wychlaran the group had yet to find.

Kivan used his bow with the ease of an expert, quickly replacing the wooden weapon with his long sword when quarters proved too close for archery. The way he weaved and moved his body would have given less nimble beings some severe back pain.

Not far a field from the elf was Ajantis. Not as agile as Kivan but, undoubtedly used to fighting large numbers with the Order, he handled himself with an enviable ease. Each swing was the honor blade of the great Helm and Ajantis rang that out loud and clear with the brisk tones of his prayers. Covered in thick armor as he was and splashes of the gnoll's blood he could have been the Watcher himself.

Lilliana had felt a rush of panic when she took in the sheer number of monsters they were going up against. With a call for Lathander's help she swallowed against a rising bile in her throat. Ashideena and the silver war hammer were in her hands before she really noticed that she had unsheathed them. There was a time only a few days past where she would have felt awkward with them; as if she always had to take great care not to let them drag her down. Now they felt as natural to her as the arms of her own body did.

Her conjurations were coming to her faster now. The time required to regain focus after a successful calling was also lessened. Now she cried out for her god in the midst of weapon locked combat. Using Viconia's flying twin hammer somersault she flew through the air, bringing her hammers to bear and conjuring holy might upon herself in the process.

Once during battle the sisters found themselves back to back and cheered one another on as they fought. Lilliana even laughed at the taunts Imoen would yell; surprised that she _could_ laugh and even more so that her amusement had eliminated her fear.

It was ended before it had really even begun. Lilliana almost felt regret that it was over so soon; immediately catching her thoughts and finding herself aghast at them. _What is wrong with me?_ She questioned. Snapping at her friends, sleeping late and then there was the worst of it. The more battle the group had seen the more the cleric found that they got easier. Not just the physicality involved but her emotional state. She _enjoyed_ fighting. It was only afterward when she looked at the monsters they had killed that it felt bad.

Creatures though they were most of them were _living_ things and the companions had ended their lives. _She_ had ended their lives and it was . . .fun. Emerald eyes surveyed the cobbles; littered by the corpses of fresh kills. Necessary perhaps but should it be pleasurable? Lilliana's gaze found her sister, unwilling to linger on the dead gnolls and the dark thoughts she connected with the sight of them.

"Over here guys! Heya! You alright down there?!" Imoen had kneeled at the edge of a large pit, one out of five located in the midst of the deeply shadowed northern courtyard. "There's someone in here! C'mon guys!" The red head motioned her cohorts over excitedly and Minsc was the first one to meet her there; though his long legs didn't make it crucial to run or even jog.

"Boo! It is fair Dynaheir! Stay there my witch, we are coming to get you!" Sun soaked skin seemed to stretch taut over large muscles as the Rashemite tried to find a way down into the hole. The gnolls had made a set of 'stairs' out of giant logs; hoisted upright on their ends. Now three of them had been taken away, on purpose no doubt. After all what was the sense in holding someone captive in a pit if they could walk out any time they wanted?

"Minsc! Help me with these!" Ajantis called from the side where he had located the absent logs. Both men went to work quickly as they lowered them down next to the others. Lilliana stood at the wayside, more than a little worried as there was still no response from Minsc's witch.

A wail echoed up to group and was recognized as that of Minsc. Lilliana dared to look down into the pit. The bald warrior was holding a prone form in his arms and crying. A hand went to cover Lilliana's mouth. _They were too late! _Both men emerged from the prison and at long last the group got their first glimpse of Dynaheir.

Even filthy as she was the Wychlaran was undoubtedly a truly beautiful woman. Her mocha skin soiled and bleeding. Hair the color of mulled wine was disheveled, pasted to the side of her face with dirt and sweat. Lilliana walked forward cautiously to where Minsc had laid his witch upon the cobbles. "Is she . . . is she alive?" The Lathanite dared and breathed out a sigh of relief when Ajantis nodded his head.

"Alive, but not well." The knight whispered something to Minsc and moved closer to the Rashemi witch. He removed his gloves and laid both hands on the woman's chest. Lilliana had seen him use his paladin's healing skills before but had never paid close attention; now she was enraptured by it. A soft glow emanated from his hands and seemed to soak into Dynaheir's body.

The woman opened her eyes and drew in a ragged breath. Looking up at the smiling and worried face of Minsc she turned to find Ajantis also looking at her. A smile lit up her face, reaching her rich amber orbs, and she opened her mouth. "Tis well to see such a handsome face after days of naught but gnolls."

Ajantis smiled back, brown eyes shining. "You are amongst good company now miss. You will be alright."

Lilliana kneeled down; intending on healing the woman further. She couldn't seem to break the shared gaze of Dynaheir and Ajantis though and after awhile she gave up. Instead she spoke with Jaheira about where they were going to stay for the coming evening and where Dynaheir could safely wash up. The whole time the druid was talking the cleric tried to listen but time and again her eyes were drawn back to her trainer. An uncomfortable knot had settled into her belly when she saw the way the knight gazed at the Wychlaran.

* * *


	9. Chapter Eight: Depths of Corruption

**Disclaimer:** _"Forgotten Realms: Baldur's Gate" belongs to Bioware, TSR, and Black Isle Studios. Lilliana is mine and situations that you don't recognize from the game are mine, all other material and inspiration for my material is under copyright by the above named. Additional Forgotten Realms material included in this story but not in the game belongs to Wizards of the Coast._

**Words From The Author:**_ Holy smokes! When you get busy time really flies. This chapter seemed to take longer to get through than the others. That is for two reasons I suspect. One I went with Anonymous' suggestion of spacing apart the dialogue and went back through ALL the previous chapters to make that the case. I'm not so fond of that style but it might make it easier you my readers and that is always at the forefront of my mind. Anyway there has also been a lot of craziness going on in my life, not bad mind you, but time consuming all the same. Lastly my computer ate this chapter, yes ATE it. Killed it and I couldn't get the entire file back without the assitance of my editor, my fiancee and my friend. So this chapter is most certainly dedicated to them as well as you for your continued patience._

_In that respect a HUGE thanks for sticking around even though it's been a month since I've updated. I hope this chapter delivers in both quality and entertainment. I'm taking a chance at introducing a new (not new new, but new to this story) NPC. He's not really my favorite, never went for the hopeless type myself, but somehow when I wrote him I rather found I liked him. He made me laugh. That sounds strange doesn't it? Since I'm the one that wrote his dialogue but he is what he is and it came across enjoyable to me, almost as if he already existed and I just happened to come along and put the specifics to paper . . . or screen as it were. I'm not sure if I should keep him around; the party IS getting VERY large, but let me know what you think and that will color my decision in the end._

_Also I've touched a little on "Imoen the Bhaalspawn" How do you ask? Well read on. I hope you enjoy. Not to mention a name within the first section that I'm sure will illicit a few gasps of surprise. ;) I'm sly that way. Didn't get this one beta tested, editor approved, I figured you had been waiting long enough. So if there are any errant typos please let me know. I'm not averse to going back and fixing them._

_As always thank you, dear readers, for joining Lilliana on her journey!_

_

* * *

_**Chapter Eight:**

**Depths of Corruption**

* * *

**T**here was a faire taking place in the streets of Baldur's Gate for some juvenile 'festival of fools' and Rieltar watched some of it from outside the boundaries of his fourth story office. The window had intricate carvings in the glass but afforded him a clear view of the street. He shook his head at the idiocy and went back to his writing.

Baroness Adelaide Mabuchi wanted to know how things were going. Which meant she was worried Rieltar might be getting a little _too _motivated. Surely someone of _her_ background (a half fiend fallen from the hells and masquerading as a human) must have been afforded some experience with deceit and delusions of grandeur. So now Lord Anchev had to write a soothing bit of piffle and hope she bought it long enough for him to tie up all his loose ends.

Adelaide had been running the Iron Throne in secret to all but those within the upper echelons for as long as Rieltar had been a member. Her word was law; perhaps the _only _one that was followed with any consistency within the group as a whole.

It had been the Baroness that had allowed for the Throne's decentralization, reaching far beyond the Sembian borders of it's origins. From her deceptively modest estate in Ordulin she ran the operation so smoothly that only the most polished of moonstones could compare.

Currently their organization was having some problems with Six Coffers Market Priakos, the only merchant based company that offered much in the way of considerable competition for the vicious Iron Throne. Marcus Selkirk, a rather crafty member of the Selgaunt aristocracy, had taken an interest in the company and with his sizeable donations had gotten a hold on Six Coffers. Marcus wasn't the only one to keep an eye on either. His daughter, Mirabeta, was a spoiled debutant but dangerous in the ambitions that she used to intrigue her father and further his ends.

Rieltar had been given control of the Throne's newest office in Baldur's Gate. With Adelaide sufficiently distracted by the Six Coffers and their boss it left Lord Anchev with more freedom than he was usually afforded. He had to be careful though, for the Baroness was no fool no matter how much chaos was going on in her life. Rieltar imagined that an escapee from the Pits probably thrived in all things chaotic anyway.

The Iron Throne had three branches, each working to affect the whole. There were The Arms, who handled the business end of things, The Feet who ran security for the Throne as well as engineered the demise of any rivals, and the Eyes who were mostly sorcerers hired on to keep open communications to connect even the most far flung of agents.

As an Arm of the Throne Rieltar was accustomed to deception, _especially_ used against his superiors. His skills at negotiation were what had landed him his current setting. From Baldur's Gate Lord Anchev foresaw not only his own group of Arms, but Feet and Eyes; each faction working for him. There were loyalties he had built and he knew that if he could find a way to displace that bitch Mabuchi there were many that would willingly follow _his_ lead instead.

Already she was losing some popularity. While her newest 'alliance' had provided the Throne with valuable assets (potent potions of sleep, a serum for charming metals against magic and many other trinkets and toys) it was an association that made many other members uncomfortable. The man, if he even _was_ a man, was a powerful wizard and his sister as sadistic a vampire as one could find. Dealing with _her_ kind did not make the situation anymore agreeable, that was for certain.

The first time Rieltar saw the wizard he had been rather appalled about his visage. A rotting face covered with a mask made of flesh and musculature so unnaturally large it looked monstrous. His voice was far colder than Rieltar's own, as if even _anger_ was an emotion the mage was incapable of.

_What __**was**__ his name?_ The lord tried to remember, finally with success. _Irenicus, yes that was it._ An unnerving man and Rieltar didn't much like the way the mage's eyes followed Sarevok around the room when he had seen him. If he thought he would use Sarevok's strength for his own purposes he was sadly mistaken. Creepy or not Rieltar would bury him in his own entrails before he'd give up his adopted son. Those talents were _his_ to use and his alone until Sarevok was dead or Rieltar no longer needed him; though both would probably be exclusive to one another.

Ink splattered onto parchment as Lord Anchev's jumping hand hit it when a heavy knock came at the door. Rieltar cursed under his breath. "When I say I do not wish to be disturbed you can take that to mean that if you so much as _cough too loudly _outside my door I will _kill _you." He remarked coldly, blotting at the spill with a handkerchief.

"Sorry boss, but we got us a problem." Brunos Costak's gruff voice came through the thick wood, seemingly unaffected by Rieltar's threat of execution. After a moment of waiting Rieltar finally told him to come in. The half orc wiped his feet on the threshold before entering.

"This had better be good, I was in the midst of writing a letter to a _dear friend_." Rieltar sneered, both of them full well knowing that Adelaide was no friend.

"Tazok's havin' some problems gettin a hold of Mulahey. He also says that the mayor down there has gotten help from the Harpers."

"_What?!_" Rieltar rose from his desk swiftly, not caring as he knocked his remaining ink onto the floor. "_Harpers?! _Explain to me why there are _Harpers _meddling around, why Tazok couldn't keep a handle on that fool muscle of his and where in the _Hells is my son?!_"

Temper such as the one he was displaying currently was an oddity. Rieltar was normally as calm and composed as a mill pond. Brunos knew his value to his boss, and felt a great sense of allegiance to the man, but this bout of anger frightened him. The half orc bit the inside of his cheek in order to keep his face stony.

"Sarevok's off with Tamoko scouting for new avenues of smaller business to 'invest' in." Brunos remarked. The stress of his word usage didn't go unnoticed and the body guard fought not to breathe a sigh of relief when Rieltar calmed at the words.

For well over a month the Throne had been taking over the smaller consortiums in the city, working their way up to a point where they would be the _only _source of arms trade along the Sword Coast. Sarevok had been trusted with aiding in such endeavors and even had been allowed to assist in the acquisition of an iron ore mine. However Brunos knew it to be a tenuous trust, based only on the golden eyed warrior's successes so far. There was no doubt in the half orc's mind that Rieltar would remove his foster son from the equation _entirely_ if he faltered.

Rieltar had been on edge ever since Adelaide had begun to get suspicious and even the slightest hiccup in his plans had to be eliminated and corrected _quickly_. He ran a hand across his receding hairline and sat back down, returned to his poised self.

"Yes, good good. As soon as my son gets back I want him sent to meet with Tazok . . .and get Kestor in here. I want to know where Nimbul is, his talents could aid us against any meddling harp song tree huggers."

* * *

_The air smelled of mimosa and Imoen breathed in deeply. She could hear the tinkling bells from her window and one sleepy eye opened to find the source of the noise. A wind chime hung from the sill and a light breeze was creating a peaceful music. Her blankets were so soft that she didn't want to get out from under them._

_**Wait a minute!**_

_This wasn't right. She had been bunking with her sister in a double bed and there was no wind chime. Winthrop had bought Imoen the hanging decoration during a trip he had made to Luskan; trying to placate his foster daughter since she had been upset that she wasn't allowed to go. It now hung in the window of Imoen's room at Candlekeep._ _The human girl nearly leapt from bed, not the least bit surprised that she was fully clothed . . .after all this had to be a dream. No way had they gone back home._

_"Not just a dream." A voice echoed from seemingly nowhere and Imoen jumped._

_"W-who's there?! I'm warnin ya, don't take me too lightly. Kivan's been showing me how to use my bow and I'll nip ya a good one I will!" She threatened, completely aware that she had no weapon, but the voice didn't know that._

_"I know everything about you Imoen. More than you know yourself." Came the reply. Imoen whirled around but there was no one in the room._

_"Where are you? __**Who**__ are you?" There was naught but the tinkling of the chimes for a long while. To Imoen it felt like decades of silence._

_"All in good time my sweet. Come outside . . . there is much to show you." Her invisible companion requested. Imoen considered ignoring that voice, making some attempt at waking up but her curiosity got the best of her._

_Candlekeep was just as she remembered. Book shelves filled with neatly stacked tomes, some of them opened on tables where someone had intended to read them. Clean stone tiles warmed by the sun covered the floor, an occasional Karatur rug under this table or that. Rich designs woven in plush cushions or on large tapestries added color to the richly brown and tan room. _

_A row of doors ran on both sides of the reading lounge, opening to rooms similar to Imoen's. As she stepped out into the room she smiled but soon that look was replaced with one of worried confusion. Where was everyone? Where were the monks reading books, or the maids cleaning or even the acolytes of Oghma hustling about their busy day?_

_Walking cautiously through the empty halls she felt suddenly aware of the heavy stillness. Even whispering voices would have been more comforting than none at all. Each floor she descended was equally hushed. When she reached the huge main doors of the keep there was a moment where she wasn't sure that she wanted to go outside. What would she find? Who would be there waiting for her?_

_A moment of indecision passed quickly and Imoen took a deep lungful of air as one slender hand reached for the door latch. Brilliant light assaulted her eyes and she blinked against it until she focused. There was a sharp intake of breath when finally she saw the gardens of Candlekeep._ _They looked as they had when last she had glimpsed upon them, but beyond the walls of the inner keep there was . . .nothing. Absolutely nothing. The whole of the library and the gardens were floating in mid air; an endless blanket of churning smoke replacing the sky, lit by an unseen source._

_"Hello Imoen. Welcome home. I'm sorry the illusion is not wholly complete. You don't have enough power yet to sustain a full vision I'm afraid . . . but we'll fix that . . .together." The voice was more solid and when the human turned she saw her sister standing there, smiling as warmly as she did every morning at breakfast._

_"Lil? Wha . . .I don't understand. What is this if it ain't a dream?" She was genuinely puzzled and her sister was more than willing to explain it seemed._

_"Your subconscious Imoen. This is the world you made inside your head. You made it to protect yourself ."_

_"Protect myself? From what?" Imoen moved closer to her sister, feeling uneasy about this place and comforted by the presence of a familiar face._

_"That which lies beyond the ether. Our father is very impressed by your promise of greatness." Lilliana maintained that pretty smile but for some reason it was beginning to look more like a sneer. "But it's not enough. That's why I'm here. Both of us are meant for greater things. I had to come to you while you slept. Your conscious mind would never accept me but here . . .in this place you made . . .I can touch you."_

_Imoen backed away, not sure why but feeling more and more afraid of her sister. "Father? Ya mean Gorion? But . . .he was __**your**__ father, not __**mine**__."_

_Lilliana snickered, an awful sounding noise. "Please! That bloated old cod fish? No . . .our real father Imoen. You see, you and I really are sisters and in time we will grow to be the most powerful of our siblings."_

_Now she knew something was amiss. Lilliana had been raised with a sense of propriety that sometimes irked Imoen in it's severity. She would never refer to her father in disdain. "No. I don't know what you are talkin' about but you ain't no sister of mine! Who are you?!" Imoen backed farther away, nearing closer to edge of the floating garden. _

_"Fool! You must accept me! You have to or we will be destroyed!" The vision of Lilliana blurred and Imoen began to see traces of the creature underneath. Red eyes permeated the wavering illusion even as the voice cracked, becoming more of a growl. _

_"What do you want from me?!" Imoen yelled, unable to go any further._

_The creature smiled, fangs showing clearly from a malformed mouth. "Your soul!" It roared and Imoen screamed as it lunged forward._

_"Nooo!" She shrieked, thrashing about as taloned hands grasped for her. There was something reaching around her legs, preventing any movement. "Lil! Help me!" _

"Imoen? What is . . .you were dreaming. Wake up." The talons had been replaced with gentle hands and Lilliana's soft voice was calling out to her. Imoen's eyes came open with a start and she found herself in the room she shared with her sister at the Nashkel Inn; engulfed in pale moonlight. The sheets on her side of the bed were tangled about her limbs and stuck to her skin with a sheen of fright induced sweat.

"Oy! What a nightmare!" She brought one of her own hands to her face and rubbed at her eyes, making sure that she really was where she thought she was. Lilliana's worried face came into view, the lunar light lining her elven features clearly. _No red eyes, no fangs. Just her sister._ Imoen breathed in deeply when she saw a starlit sky outside the window. _No smoke._

"Are you alright? I'll go into the inn's kitchen and get some tea. I am certain the cook won't mind if I leave her some coin." Lilliana made to get up, grabbing for her robe but Imoen clutched at her.

"No. Please, stay. I don't wanna be alone!" The girl's normally calm face was twisted up into a mask of fear.

"Of course. I still think some chamomile would do you good though. It will calm your nerves. Why don't we go get the tea together?" Lilliana offered as her sister clung to her, still deep in the throws of whatever distress her nightmare had caused. She barely felt the red head nod against her shoulder but it was enough.

Later the two sisters were sitting together in a corner of the common room. The cook, Mary Anne, had been up early. Lilliana was amazed at how hard some of these folk worked. _"Gots to get the bread done early ya know."_ Had been the woman's simple reply and she had been kindly helpful with the tea, though she hadn't the time to make it herself and the sisters found themselves over the stove.

"Mmm, this is good stuff!" Imoen commented, the rim of the stoneware mug against her lips. Chamomile did indeed have a calming effect and the gentle steam that rolled off it smelled comforting. She eyed her sister over the top, still getting the feeling that Lilliana was studying her. Imoen put the cup down and leaned over the table with her elbows. "Alright. Ya been starin' at me this whole time. Did I look _that _crazy when I woke up?"

"What? Oh good heavens no. It isn't that." Lilliana smiled warmly and reached across the worn wood to place her hand over her sister's. "I just worry about you. I know, I know. You hate to be mothered, but you are all the family I have. I must take care of you."

Imoen _did_ hate to be mothered, it was true. She was an independent girl, she always had been. Even when she was young enough to sit on Winthrop's lap and be held through the throws of childish nightmares it was never for very long. Then she was squirming about, wanting to be free of any constraints.

"Yeah but Lil . . .you _ain't _my _mother_, you're my _sister_. We're supposed ta' take care of _each other_. Aren't we?" Imoen asked plainly and Lilliana nodded.

"That is true. I suppose I cannot help myself. I want to help everyone, even when I know I can't. The curse of a Lathanite with the inexperience to match her conscientiousness." Lilianna sighed, her eyes still seeking out whatever truth lay hidden beyond the boundaries of Imoen's facade. "Imoen . . .I know you probably won't want to tell me but . . . if you wish to talk about your dream I am willing to listen."

Always the bonds of sisterhood amazed Imoen at their strength. There may have been no shared blood between them, but such a thing didn't even matter. In all things they had one another. No matter how frustrated they became over one another, and that _did_ happen on occasion, the love they had never faded. It was set to no conditions and whatever there was in the world for Imoen to fear, losing Lilliana's love was _never_ one of them. She smiled broadly, eyes closed as she allowed her mind to recall what it had produced during her sleep.

"I _do_ want to tell ya. It'll make me feel less like . . . well I don't know. It'll just make me feel better I think." Here in the common room with Lilliana there was a comfortable peace, a feeling that reminded Imoen of the comfort of being home. It was in such a state that she almost didn't want to remember the false illusion her nightmare had made . . .but she did.

"I woke up . . .in the dream I mean, I woke up in the dream. I was in my old room at Candlekeep. It was nice at first, smellin' the gardens from the window, hearin' Puff Gut's chime he got me . . .but then . . .it wasn't nice. It was empty and quiet. Almost felt like it was . . .dead. There was this voice from far away too; callin' for me to come outside. So I went and there you were. It looked like you Lil, sounded like you . . . Hell, even smelled like ya do, that lavender stuff you put on all the time." Imoen remembered, her vision blurred by her memory but yet clear enough in it's recollection for the retelling.

Lilianna listened intently and when Imoen said the thing in her vision looked like _her_ an unexpected feeling of dread crept up her spine. Immediately she remembered her own dream with her father. With her voice faltering under her worry she asked her sister to continue.

"But it wasn't you! It was a monster; trying to trick me and it almost worked. It was sayin' that I could be powerful, really powerful if I let it . . .'you' . . . help me. Ya know I was startin' to believe it until it called Gorion a 'bloated old codfish' You wouldn't never say nothin' like that! I _knew_ ya wouldn't. Then it said it wanted my soul and then I woke up and you were there, the_ real _you that time." Imoen looked at her sister wide eyed and wasn't surprised to see Lilliana looking worried.

"What are ya' thinkin' Lil?" She queried.

"Hmm, oh well nothing. That just sounds awful." Lilliana had replaced her frown with a cautious smile. 'Thank the gods it was just a nightmare."

Imoen nodded, taking another sip of her tea. "That's fer sure."

Lilliana could not deny some of the similarities with her own dream of her father and his visions of the future; though her dream had been entirely more pleasant. Perhaps they were coincidences and that was all. Certainly it was nothing worth telling Imoen; breaking her word to her father and thusly worrying her sister. It would be best if she tried not to make more out of it than it was.

She pressed down the pit of dread that she had felt and smiled widely. "Finish your tea and then we must get back to bed. We take on the Nashkel Mines tomorrow."

* * *

Dynaheir stretched out languidly, finding even a bed as simple as the one she was currently afforded far better than the hole the gnolls had her in. After the joint ministrations of the talented paladin, the practiced druid and the decently skilled cleric, all the Wychlaran had as a physical reminder was a faint discoloration around the affected area.

The enchanted bracers that had removed her ability to cast magic were on for a while, so it was no surprise. None in the group Minsc had found had the skills to remove a cursed item. So it wasn't until the companions arrived back at Nashkel that Dynaheir at long last could feel the bare skin of her wrists again. She was only thankful that such a small town even had a temple and more over that the priests of Helm were willing and able to help her.

Minsc had stayed up all night with her but now as her eyes traveled the small and sparsely furnished room she saw her guardian . . .fast asleep. A smile lit up her mocha features as she rose from beneath the rumpled sheets.

They had traveled together for over two years and she'd grown close to the giant man and his hamster, though she would be damned if she'd admit such a thing. He was far too trusting, being simple as he was but for all that she could see he had managed to come across good people to travel with.

Minsc had been the favored son of the Felengrad Clan until an unfortunate accident with a plow horse that left him as he was now; misunderstood and of a child-like disposition, until he was angered of course. She remembered well the day she had been 'saddled' with the would-be ranger.

The Volodonyi were the masked witches of Rashemen, known to outsiders as the Hidden Ones for obvious reasons, and they were the respectable heads of Wychlaran society. It had been they that sent young Dynaheir on her Almsivi, a test of mettle that would prove she was ready to join the ranks of the Volodonyi Sisterhood herself. She had seen twenty four years of life but only ten of those had been spent in Rashemen and she was still very much considered a stranger to her native sisters.

Naryan-Mar Angolan was Dynaheir's mother and had been amongst the Hidden Ones as the most talented of their rank. That was until she fell in love with Dynaheir's sire, a dark skinned man from the far land of Anauroch, the Great Desert. Her relationship with him, while brief, was enough to create a frenzy amongst her sisters and she was exiled when her pregnancy was discovered. For one who had pledged themselves to the Wychlaran there was to be no other love but their sisters. To have affairs of the body was common but to have an affair of the heart . . . that was a different matter entirely. Not only that but precautions were to be taken to prevent a sister's womb to become heavy with child without the blessing of The Three. When such occurred with a male viewed 'undesirable' by the Volodonyi then the betrayal was seen as twice as bad.

So when Dynaheir had grown old enough to learn of her origins and brave a trek back to her homeland nothing was easy for her. To be considered a Wychlaran she had to work twice as hard as the other initiate sisters, just to prove herself worthy. Not only had she grown up apart from Rashemen but her mother's exile had a trickle down effect it seemed.

Minsc had a similar problem of overcoming a blatant disadvantage. Had Dynaheir's mother never 'fallen from grace' she would have an advantage not a disadvantage from her origins. Had Minsc never attained his head injury he too would have benefited.

Both misfits trying hard to fit into a society that wasn't sure it wanted them, they had been joined together. At first Dynaheir had wailed about the unfairness of it. Already she had to pay for Naryan-Mar's indiscretions, did she have to baby-sit an overgrown child as well?

Then Minsc spoke of himself, of how even though he'd already taken his Dejemma, the Rashemite ritual of man hood, he must take it again because he was deemed unworthy of a place at his clan's lodge. Their similarities were made clear then and ever since Dynaheir had been able to see past Minsc's short comings. Beyond them was a great man and a loyal friend.

Boo had curled himself close to the berserker's chin as both man and hamster were immersed in bright morning sunlight. Dynaheir walked over to them quietly, not entirely wanting to wake them. With a sigh she touched her guardian's shoulder. "Come now good Minsc. Tis time to welcome thy day and speak with your new friends."

* * *

Lilliana awoke to a stiff neck, finding her sister curled up against her side. She remembered the events of the evening past and brushed a light hand against Imoen's forehead. Once her heavy curled locks were pushed aside Lilliana could clearly see her fair face and it seemed calm enough. Carefully disentangling herself from Imoen's limbs she climbed out of bed; quietly going about getting dressed with the practice of one used to waking with another in their room. Rubbing at her neck she caught a glimpse of herself in the small mirror and snorted at the reflection in disparagement.

When they had arrived back at Nashkel Lilliana had to physically force herself not to rush to the inn; hurried as she was to see if Viconia was there. Finally after the group had visited the Temple of Helm and the general store they made it back to the inn. Lilliana could no longer contain herself and was the first one through the door, unable to stop her heart from clenching in anticipation. Soon her hopeful smile had been replaced by a frown. Viconia had not been there and that didn't change all of last evening.

The young Lathanite was trying not to let it bother her; afraid that it would put her in a foul mood that would only be a detriment to her other companions. She'd let it trickle down to the rest of the group plenty when Viconia had left. So she had tried to shove the image of her friend from her mind. At this point the only thing she could do was pray to Lathander to help Viconia find her way. That would have to be enough for now.

It would taste a lie if she weren't to admit that Viconia's absence wasn't the only thing on her mind. Ajantis hadn't trained with her since they had left the gnoll stronghold. He said she required no further training, that from here on out it was all 'learn as you go' Lilliana should have believed him, she wanted to believe him but it was hard.

Every morning since Dynaheir's rescue the young knight had spent a great deal of time just talking with the Wychlaran. You would have to be blind not to notice the looks shared between them. The feeling of being pushed aside in favor of another wasn't a pleasant one and the dawn mistress was ashamed to believe in such thoughts, and at the same time could not deny them.

_Minsc and Dynaheir. Master Minsc Felengrad and Mistress Dynaheir Angolan. _The half high-elf's mind amended. After rescuing the young Rashemite they finally had some last names to go along with the first. Though Minsc had been revealed to be originally from Clan Felengrad, so Lilliana wasn't entirely sure that was so much of a crest name as it was one of distinction.

The two of them made quite the pair and try as she might Lilliana couldn't bring herself to dislike the Wychlaran anymore than she could dislike Minsc. He did seem to have a great affection for his witch after all and Lilliana did not feel that it was unwarranted. Jaheira hadn't liked her much but then Jaheira didn't like _anyone _very much, except Khalid. Lilliana grinned in spite of herself as she pulled her boots on.

* * *

**2'nd of Kythorn**

Breakfast that morning had been short and already the group was making feet towards the Nashkel Mines. Jaheira kept glancing behind her to where Dynaheir and Ajantis were walking together, Minsc not far from the woman's side. Khalid nudged his wife's shoulder, whispering in her ear. "I know you d-didn't want them along b-but . . ."

"But nothing!" The druid started, a little too loudly and when Kivan shot her an odd look she lowered her voice. After the Rashemite witch had smiled at Khalid that morning Jaheira had stuck to her husband's side as if made of some kind of adhesive material. Whether intentional or not that smile was far too enticing for the druid's liking. Her mood had gone downhill from there and every time Dynaheir looked Khalid's way Jaheira glared at her.

"What is their purpose? She already said that both her and her guardian are attempting to 'earn back their honor' or some other such rot. I do not see why that means they would want to come with us. I find it unfathomable that I let Lilliana talk me into it, or furthermore that she did in the first place. I wouldn't expect _her_ to have any love for that little robed tart."

Khalid knew of what his wife spoke. It was apparent to most everyone except Ajantis that Lilliana had developed a crush on her trainer. She wasn't the only one either, Imoen also clearly held the same girlish fancy for the knight as her sister. When Khalid glanced behind him at the pair he could see Imoen shooting dagger eyes at Dynaheir's back. Lilliana however merely walked along with her gaze focused towards the ground, looking rather defeated.

He would feel pity for the pain such crushes could cause, he'd been victim of more than a few in his _own_ youth, but then Khalid also knew that it was better that a crush was revealed as such and subsequently gotten over and done with. Besides it wasn't as if Lilliana had no comfort available to her.

The two sisters had begun whispering conspiratorially and from the looks Imoen continued to direct at Dynaheir it was no mystery what their topic was. Lilliana shook her head, glancing to Ajantis once and then patting her hand against her chest. Imoen began to say something but Lilianna interrupted her and immediately engaged Kivan in conversation, thusly making an adequate escape from her sister's objections. Khalid smiled For all her naivety the young cleric could be very clever when attempting to diffuse uncomfortable situations; though if he were being honest he would admit that lately Lilliana had been the source of such situations anyway.

"What are _you_ smiling about? I certainly don't see _anything_ enjoyable about the state of affairs we find ourselves in. Gods know what we will be facing at the mines and now we have to deal with a couple of flirts, a mental incompetent and his rodent, a brooding elf and two jealous children." Jaheira pouted but it did not deter Khalid's good mood.

"W-Well darling, l-look at this w-way. At l-least the trip w-won't be boring." The half gold-elf wiggled his eyebrows playfully and Jaheira nudged him with her elbow. It was a half hearted action. If the softness of the contact wasn't proof of that the amused grin the druid was trying to hide eliminated any doubt.

Dynaheir had wrapped one arm through Ajantis' own. She smiled beautifully at the knight as she leaned in closer, sparing a glance to her guardian while he fed Boo yet again. "So tell me of this 'Waterdeep' Is it truly as splendid as scribes would say?"

Eyes alight with pride and chest nearly swollen with it the knight responded. "Well my dear lady, it isn't called the City of Splendors for nothing. Even before there ever was a city there Mount Waterdeep had always been a spot for excellence. It has been the most famed center for trade for over a thousand years."

Dynaheir beamed, unused to such large cities and genuinely fascinated in the paladin's description. As interested as she was trying to be the young Wychlaran couldn't help but feel distracted. There was a strong sense of being watched and she turned her head to look behind her. Lilliana and Imoen had both been staring and abruptly averted their gaze when they were caught.

She knew the girls were keen on Ajantis; it wasn't hard to imagine why, but she also knew that neither of them had any claim over him. For the most part it seemed like a girlish crush instead of anything concrete.

Dynaheir found the tall blonde quite handsome and so unlike the males in Rashemen. While she had no intentions of allowing herself to 'fall for him', as the Heartlanders would call it, she saw nothing intrinsically wrong with enjoying a far simpler kind of pleasure with one as appealing as the knight. If it meant that she would alienate the sisters though she wasn't sure if she should give into the attraction she felt for Ajantis or not

Minsc walked beside her and seemed to notice when she was distressed. Leaning down to her height he whispered. "Is something bothering my witch? Minsc will defeat any evil that dares to come near Dynaheir . . . but if they are problems inside your skull . . .Even Boo thinks it would be hard for us to help, but I will try." There was a gentle smile on the giant berserker's face and Dynaheir patted his arm.

"Tis nothing, good Minsc."

Ajantis also studied her closely, affected by the abrupt end in their conversation. When he turned about to follow the line Dynaheir's vision had gone he saw only Lilliana and Imoen, talking amongst themselves. "Miss Dynaheir, is there something bothering you about the girls? I know they seem a little standoffish right now, but they are good ladies . . . they'll come around I'm sure." He nodded as much to himself as he did to the Wychlaran.

With a sigh and a grin Dynaheir continued to walk, listening intently without interruption as Ajantis began to speak of his great Waterdeep once again. Mysterious caverns under the mountain begging adventurers to test their weaving halls, a graveyard as large as a city and full of night-time dangers, and bay waters so unfathomable no one could hazard a guess as to their true depth.

It was an enjoyable way to spend their journey. The Rashemite convinced herself that she shouldn't be hampered from the enjoyment by worrying over the jealousies of two young women. She only hoped she could forge good relations with them without sacrificing the rapport she had with Ajantis.

Imoen snarled at the Wychlaran's back, her voice whispered but waspish all the same. "Ugh! Look at her! Hangin' all over him like some kinda harlot!" When Dynaheir smiled up at the knight, laughing at something he said, it turned Imoen's rosy face nearly beet red. Lilliana placed a hand on her sister's arm.

"Oh, leave her alone. We have had our fun. It is hardly her fault that Ajantis saw in us nothing more than friendship. Were you this angry with _me_ when _I_ was spending time with him?" Lilliana hazarded and got an ill favored look in return.

"Course not! You're my _sister_, that makes it different. 'Sides it was wasn't like ya were _purposely_ doin it to make me mad." Imoen cursed under her breath, trying to think of any way she could to materialize her anger and use it to set Dynaheir's pretty burgundy hair on fire.

Their voices held the low range of a conspiracy and that alone made the half high-elf feel guilty. When their jabs at the Wychlaran had begun that morning it felt pretty good, she had to admit. Imoen didn't seem surprised that her sister shared such a high regard for the knight and wasn't even mad about it, having apparently worked out her problems with it some time ago. Together they had taken out their feelings in the form of whispered retorts at the woman that had so effortlessly captured _their_ paladin's affections. As it continued, however, Lilliana found herself losing interest and beginning to feel uncomfortable about it.

It wasn't as if Dynaheir had set out to hurt their feelings. There was a natural connection between the two of them.

Gorion used to read romance stories to Lilliana when she got old enough to appreciate them and her questions about the workings of such feelings were always met with an honest answer. Her father had known what it was like to be in love, to find someone meant for you, and also how that was different from a crush. _'Love springs up where it will and there is naught you can do for it but accept it's sheer honesty. Your mind can mistake a high regard as 'being in love' but only your soul knows when you've found the other half of it. The soul that was made to match yours.'_

Lilliana wasn't in love with Ajantis and she doubted her sister was either. With a smile the Lathanite could remember her own first crush, and Imoen's several 'first loves'. Each time the sprightly strawberry blonde had a crush on a new contender for her heart she always declared that each one was the first. Tipping her head in the direction of her sister she used one of those 'first loves' to her advantage, hopping it would allow Imoen to lighten up from the Wychlaran a bit.

"What would Sir Garrick think of all this? Why it would wound his poor heart to see his beloved carrying on so over another. I bet he would write a tome full of tragic verse. 'My fair rose, her thorns have pierced this bard' fully . . ' Poor man." Lilliana lamented with a pitying click of her tongue.

Imoen wrinkled her nose at her sister, ready to refute such things as silliness, but she couldn't keep a note of hope from her voice. "Nah, he wouldn't . . . do ya really think he liked me _that_ much?"

A nod and playful wink was all the answer Lilliana gave, finally continuing after Imoen slapped her arm. "He seemed fairly besotted to me but then what would I know?" Her voice still had that cheeky edge to it and Imoen grinned back; the sisters easing into feminine talk of romance as the companions persisted on their trek.

* * *

Deep in the shadows of the Cloud Peak mountains the Nashkel Iron Mine was a deceivingly barren place. The rocky soil _looked_ lifeless but under normal circumstances was in fact _rich_ with mineral deposits. Man had made the leveled walls of the mine itself, cut into a deep crater-like hole within the earth, and the sight held all the appearance of the ambitions of humanity.

With the arrival of gray storm clouds the lush-less soil had soon become drenched with the rain let loose upon it. The miners were almost grateful for the soothing moisture, some even opening their mouths to the sky to take the droplets onto their parched tongues. Water canteens were afforded to every working member of the mines but on a day as hot and humid as today's had been they weren't quite enough.

Emerson Argent had been the master of the Nashkel Mines for nigh on thirty years now and knew that soon the sooty soil would become muddy, slick and treacherous as it absorbed the rain. He stood under the small rusting eave of the metal roofed maintenance shed, watching the workers. Today they were trying to widen the east tunnel but Emerson knew it was folly.

More miners missing everyday and still they couldn't find the source. It was enough to drive a man mad. Though even if the miners were safe all the ore they had been taking crumbled in their hands like shale. Emerson cursed Tymora everyday for such luck. It was just the start of summer, their most demanding season, and then this whole mess had started. There could have been no worse time of year for such problems to occur.

When a group of eight came up over the lip of the mine they immediately drew Emerson's attention. It was hard to see them clearly through the down pour but he could make them out well enough to note that they were neither new miners or members of the Amnish garrison. As they moved onto the grounds proper he stiffened. More opportunists like as not _'come to save the good fellows of the Nashkel Mines!_' Aye, and get killed along with all the others that had come before them.

"Master Argent you must be. The only one besides the guards without a pick axe in his hands." A rather tallish half-elf commented, an almost amused look on her face.

Emerson glowered at her. "If that's a wise crack, best you be keepin' em to yourself missy."

Before the half elf said anything a petite elfess stepped forward, hand on the taller female's arm. "Mistress Kostas does not mean anything by that of course. We have come from Nashkel, sent by the mayor to . . . "

Emerson cut her off, eyeing her with disdain. She looked no more than a child, and the irrational sort to be sure. "I don't care if you came from Ao's arse sent by Himself. I don't need any more fool adventurers trying to prove themselves in _my_ mine."

A monstrously tall Rashemite strode to the fore then, a frown on his face. Emerson took an involuntary step back. "Miss Lily wants to help. Minsc and Boo wish to help too Your mine is full of evil, Boo says, and needs the righteous boots of justice to kick it out!"

" . . . Yeah, look . . .that may be so but even your 'Miss Lily' has to understand that several have come before you. None of them ever came back outta the mines. There's nothin for it until the Council sends more soldiers up here to assist us. Even then we might just have to wind up tearing the whole thing apart."

It was true enough. There was a point where one had to admit that they'd lost the battle. Try as he might Emerson couldn't bring himself to have anymore hope for his mine. If he had his way about it they would have already shut the thing down; as it was he was doing his best to keep the miners and guards out of the lower tunnels. Now only the first two levels were 'operational' and he used that term very loosely.

Just last week there had been a halfling and an extremely odd human mage that had taken into those depths. They hadn't returned and though Emerson had thought them off balance at the start they _had_ seemed capable. This group was larger, but whether eight or two, in the end it didn't matter.

The look on the austere face of the female half-elf went from stoic to annoyed, her quickly rising tone perhaps more frightening than the sheer size of her giant companion. "Mayor Ghatskill has called upon our support, we have bound ourselves to this task. The mines are in danger of being abandoned without _immediate_ aid. Your refusal to assist us in this matter will be met with a swift and unpleasant reaction. I am certain Mayor Ghatskill will not take kindly to your interference."

With a gruff snort Emerson shook his head. "Stubborn as a pack mule and twice as ornery ain't you? Fine, you want to go and kill yourselves, be my guest. I remind you to not disrupt my workers, or I don't care how catty you get or how many threats you send my way; I _will_ have you removed from the premises."

For a moment it looked as if the half-elf was going to say something but then she just nodded. The rest of her companions headed for the main entrance to the mine, it's opening like the black hungry maw of a giant monster. Emerson watched them for awhile before he turned and went into the maintenance shed. Wanderers without the sense they were born with, the lot of them. If they made it back out it would be a miracle.

* * *

There was a loud echo to the third level of the mines, deafening in it's silence. Long had the group passed the last 'working level' and their only companions now were the shored walls.

Lilliana stepped in a puddle, the sound of displaced water making her gasp aloud, as surprisingly abrupt as the noise was. Jaheira turned to give the girl a look that was anything but friendly. Lilliana returned it with a nervous, apologetic shrug.

Darkness enveloped the group, so thick that Imoen imagined she could feel it; oppressive and heavy. It was as if the shadows had a presence all their own. Every few moments the human thief could swear she heard a faint scurrying noise in the blackness, but when listening further there was nothing.

Dynaheir was twisting a braid of hair still damp from the rains that probably continued to pour above them. _Far above us . . . too far_. She thought, not entirely claustrophobic but uncomfortable feeling so confined, compressed and buried . . ._buried alive_. A shiver ran up her spine and she shook her robed frame briefly, earning a concerned glance from Minsc that she waved off.

"I . . I think . . . does anyone else smell anything?" Lilliana posed, her voice wavering.

A faint torchlight had been lit as Dynaheir had known no infravision spells. "The ways of my sisters are different from your . . .how do say? . . ._Wizards_. This 'infravision' . . .I do not know it." She had offered, as if defending herself from attack. With four humans in their party it had been necessary, though with such darkness that swallowed them at this depth the orange glow of the flickering flame didn't reach very far.

Kivan found the torchlight annoying against his elven sight but he found ways to ignore it as best he could. Placing a hand out to touch Lilliana's shoulder and motion her for silence he listened closely, sniffing the air in turn. "Aye. Smells of fur, perhaps that of a dog and there is . . .a scurrying across the dirt and stone."

"I knew it!" Imoen chirped, happy that her senses hadn't failed her and afraid all at the same time. There were moments where the human thought that if she had infravision she would feel far more secure at night or in the dark, but in the torchlight she could admit that perhaps 'seeing' wasn't always for the best. Things moved in the shadows and when you couldn't discern what they were your mind filled in the gaps; creating images that were horrifying in all their possibilities.

"_Silence girl_!" Jaheira hissed within a whisper and when next the scurrying sounded out it was heard by everyone, a yipping that sounded almost excited soon following. "_Kobolds_." The druid expelled, her memory sharp and able to remember facing the small dog-like creatures before.

Ajantis grinned. If it was kobolds down here then this was going to be easy for him. The miners they had spoken to offered all kinds of imagined culprits, from dragons to demons, but the druids utterance was far more likely. The Order had been in charge of clearing out monster infestations before and on several occasions it was a case of kobolds. They huddled in groups and in larger numbers could prove quite dangerous and they also were more commonly found in underground burrows.

There was a 'woosh' of air as an arrow whizzed by them, coming from the darkness beyond. Lilliana watched it as if in slow motion as many more headed for their targets. She heard Dynaheir seethe in pain and Minsc's battle cry. _'So it begins again_.'

Battle that time had been joined with such rapidity that it scarcely felt real. Weapons were drawn, spells cast and conjurations called for. There were long moments where the metallic roar of steel on steel and the shouts of the companions felt as if it were drowning them.

Minsc's ears were filling with the yipping of the sheer _horde_ of kobolds that had piled at them from the depths of the mine. He had taken on many different manner of creature but it was when the little ones attacked in large numbers that fighting proved the most difficult. "So many targets Boo! They look like one!" He shouted to the hamster that was curling itself in one of his pockets.

In the land of Rashemen the Witches prayed to no god but the power of The Three. It was said that The Goddess, Mystryl, and her two sisters, Khelliara and Bright Nydra, had counterparts in the Pantheon but Dynaheir didn't hold much stock in that.

The Goddess blessed the Witches with the Weave and the one who now recited the talents Mystryl had seen fit to give her smiled at the pleasant feeling of magic flowing through her. Heartlanders called the spell 'Agnazzar's Scorcher', Dynaheir called it 'Serpent of Flame.' No matter _what_ name it held when she spoke the words from her memory a long shot of fire burst forth and set the kobolds around her to blaze.

Khalid ducked as a massive swing from Ajantis' great sword sent a group of kobolds to fly back bleeding. The half gold-elf made a sound of disgust as some of their life blood landed on his cheek. Quickly wiping a gloved hand across his face he rolled through a break in the horde. A small furred face came into view, eyes going wide as it saw him. With sharp wicked teeth and a nearly serpentine tongue it sniggered at him, mistaking his crawling form for that of a target in distress. It was the last mistake the creature made as Nithryon came up, well curved blade catching the light of a torch that had been dropped to the ground.

He rose from his feet, a satisfied smile on his face before he spotted his wife; Effortlessly weaving a path through the still thick kobolds. Moving to parry at her back the married Harpers became as one. With each swing of Jaheira's staff there was matching movement from Khalid's long blade. Between the two of them they had decimated the ranks of kobolds down to a more manageable number. Khalid turned to her rapidly, grabbing her chin and kissing her intensely if briefly, before the two once again engaged an all new wave of their enemy.

They weren't the only ones to pair up. Imoen and Kivan shot off arrows in kind, the wood elf feeling a great sense of pride and wonder for his talented trainee. The normally jovial girl held her face with an image of seriousness, arrow after arrow firing in succession. At the rate she was going she would reach Kivan's level of talent in at least another six months. Never had he seen a human take to the bow so well.

Battle didn't last as long as one would have thought, considering how the kobolds had come upon the companions like a swarm of bees. Looking around her Jaheira nodded approvingly. "I can still feel a sense of disruption here, but we have restored some of the balance."

"Yeah, we all did pretty good huh? Man! Don't seem ta remember anyone tellin' me that kobolds smelled so _bad_!" Imoen holstered her bow at her back, putting a leather encased hand over her nose. "Smell even worse dead!" Came her muffled words and Dynaheir grinned.

"Tis well that I can fix such things then yes?" The Wychlaran looked supremely pleased with herself but the glance she sent Imoen was very pleasant. Imoen didn't know quite how to respond, uncomfortable with receiving kind words from the woman that had drawn her bile earlier.

Before the Rashemite could be consulted on what she meant she took a scroll from a bag of them she kept securely at her hip. Amber eyes traveled over the words even as Ajantis went to retrieve the fallen torch, which had miraculously stayed lit all that time. Nodding to herself Dynaheir replaced the scroll and began to chant.

A cloud of light mist surrounded the group and Imoen breathed in the pleasant scent. With a flick of one bracleted wrist Dynaheir banished the cloud, but the fragrance of the spell remained. When the group raised eyebrows at her, save Minsc who was smiling broadly, she grinned at them. "'Zone of sweet air' is that one. Better, yes?"

Everyone seemed pleased with it . . .except Ajantis. His brown eyes were twitching in his sockets and he was looking about him anxiously. Dynaheir favored him with a concerned glance. "What is the problem Sir knight?"

Imoen shared his worry when she realized what or rather _who_ was missing. "Lil is gone!"

* * *

There was a sound of constantly dripping water and the noise was beginning to wear on the high elf enchanter's nerves. He tried to block it out, instead visualizing his fine home of Evereska. The towering magical blue leaf trees, surrounding gardened terraces and the ancient statues that adorned them. Each of the twelve Shaeradim Hills that cradled the Evereskan valley would glow with the final setting of the sun; swathing the great city in a golden light.

The ruling Hill Elders, led by the honorable High Elder Duirsar Malian, had been claiming visions of the city falling into disrepair. Always beauty and perfection was to be crushed cruelly by fate. Still Evereska was as beautiful today as it had been the eons ago that it had been created.

He could no longer recall how long he had been in this fetid hole and now no longer cared but for the wish of death; deliverance from his imprisonment. Mulahey, as the hygienically disinclined half-orc had introduced himself, said he was keeping him for his magical talents. The high elf snorted derisively. _As if the filthy half-brute could comprehend such a thing as the wonderful flow of energy present in the Children of Corellon_ . Even if he could there was the fact that Mulahey had yet to do anything with the enchanter but keep him locked up. The cage door to the hole in the wall that the elf had been afforded was charmed. Every time he even so much as attempted a simplistic magic missile it fizzled out.

A different sound caught the attention of the elf's severely pointed ears and he scrambled across the dirt 'floor' and closer to the barred door. It sounded like a struggle of some kind. Beyond the yipping of Mulahey's kobold minions the elf could pick out the angry and frightened cries of a young humanoid.

_Another prisoner then, to share in my misery. _The elf thought broodingly, skittering back as the door came open. Torch light assaulted his silver eyes that had almost become accustomed to the gloom. He knew Lord Larethian looked with disfavor upon those of his followers that would flee from their enemy. The high elf however was sure it would not be so if the king of the elven pantheon knew how one of his children had been left to rot beneath the earth.

"Wakey wakey blondie . . .present I be having for you." Mulahey's ugly face appeared in the doorway, teeth hanging over his lower lip as he grinned. "Little girl it is. Big boss knows this one he does. Show his servant bounty notice when he hear of visitors to Nashkel. Eye I was keeping out and my kobolds brought her to me. You can't have her long but awhile . . .long enough to do something other than wail. I is sick of hearing you cry in there. You should be thinking you are lucky that I am so hospbi . . .hopirat . . . ." Mulahey struggled with the word 'hospitable', finally giving up. "Be lucky I be nice enough to give you gift at all."

The enchanter was disgusted at the half orc's insinuations and for a moment his mind worked through being appalled. Before there was time to make any attempt at escape the new captive was thrown at him and the door slammed shut again. He would yell at Mulahey to release him but it was hopeless.

"No! Let me out of here! Let me out or my friends will come and find me and they will not be pleased!" The new arrival shouted, her hair a mess of black tangles that obscured her face. She had grabbed the bars of the door and was shaking them now.

"It is no use. We are both going to die in here." The enchanter offered solemnly; A tell tale shake of his head as he sighed for effect. She turned on him and for a moment he was afraid she was _already _crazed and would fall upon him. Instead she blinked as she faced him as if surprised to find someone else there; though she must have known there was another when Mulahey was speaking to him.

"Who are you? How did you get here?" She asked, brushing her hair out of her face and it was then the enchanter's turn to be surprised. _She was a high elf! _Albeit a very young one. Mulahey had been right about one thing, she was indeed a little girl. At first glance he pegged her at no more than fifty years of age. Though for an elfling someone had taken care to dress her in armaments, though they were slight. A basic chain mail covered her frame, a short wrap, leggings and a muslin short all he could see beneath the metal. There was a leather holster around her frame but any weapons she may have had were absent. Her small feet were covered with rather worn looking leather boots. _Hardly the attire of one of the Blessed Children!_

"Prince Xan. Third son to High Elder, Duirsar, patron of the family of Malian. I am a enchanter of the Greycloaks of Evereska, the jewel of all elven empires. High elf born from the magical blood of our moon cousins." He stated proudly. He found the memory of what he had abandoned by coming to these accursed lands threw him into a profound depression.

The Greycloaks were an organization of wizardly law enforcement, taking their name from the Grey Cloak Hills. Often it was by their protection that Evereska continued to deflect any attack made upon the city. It had been the Elders that had commissioned the aided investigation from the Greycloaks after all their imported iron started falling apart. Xan thought it was some awful luck that _he_ was the one chosen to go, though it wasn't as if he had been given much choice. His superior, Lord Zinfandel Somerset, himself had chosen him to travel to Nashkel.

"They send _princes_ out? Aren't you too important to leave the city?" The she-elf asked, raising one ebony brow at him.

"Hardly. As a Greycloak every member is equal . . .in the eyes of the Arch Magi at least." He sighed again. "I shall never see my grand city again. The Last Home is lost to me."

"Oh no, don't say that. My friends will come . . .they _will _and we shall both see one another out of here. I can hardly contain my wish to feel Lathander's sun on my face again." She smiled wistfully and Xan was left to ponder how anyone could smile in such a situation . . .then it struck him.

"Lathander?!" His tone was incredulous. _What kind of high elf sought their deity in the Faerûnian Pantheon? Had she so carelessly thrown away the blessings of the Seldarine? _She mistook his shock for curiosity and smiled again, blushing in some kind of discomfiture.

"I forgot to introduce myself! I don't suppose it is that hard to fathom, surroundings considered but I am still terribly embarrassed. Lady Lilliana Avalon, recently appointed dawn mistress of the Father of Light, His Grace the Morning Lord Lathander."

Xan continued to stare even after Lilliana held out her hand for him to shake. She raised a brow at him finally drawing her hand back. "Ummm . . .hello? Are you alright sir?"

"What kind of a high elf _are_ you to worship _Lathander_?!" He asked, his tone biting and she recoiled from it. The gaze she shot him was turbulent one.

"I beg your pardon? Am I to take that to mean that worshipping Lathander makes me inferior? From where I am standing both of us wound up locked away by that half orc." If there was one thing guaranteed to raise Lilliana's ire it was noted disdain of His Lord.

"Why do you not follow the Seldarine? If you are a priestess where are your Vensataris?" Xan was genuinely baffled. One look at her made it obvious she was a high elf but her demeanor seemed so . . . _human_.

"Vensataris? What is that?" Lilliana asked, now genuinely confused by his questions and even more so about his growing agitation.

"You cannot be serious! Vensataris; your ethereal guardians. Every priestess of high elven blood has them, even if for some unfathomable reason she has abandoned the faith of Corellon and his court. What city is it you hail from that you would not know such things and what of your steward? Where is _he_? As a lady of court surely your father would not allow a daughter so young to wander a field without an escort."

Lilliana looked afflicted for a moment and Xan had a brief and rare feeling of pushing too far. "My father is . . . no longer with me and we came from Candlekeep." The words of caution Jaheira would give her about handing out information were forgotten. Lilliana's mind was wont to carry a selective memory in tense situations.

"Candlekeep? Why would your father take you there, to be raised amongst humans?" The word 'humans' was spoken with as much disparagement as Lathander had been.

"Why is that so strange? Humans are as much my kin as high elves are. I _am_ a half elf after all." She offered, surprised at how horror stricken the blonde high elf looked at that bit of information.

_She couldn't be a half breed! _He allowed himself to study her features. She was slight of stature, her ears were pointed, her face angular . . .though she did look rather plain in appearance. She had the fairness of the fey folk but not really any of the exquisiteness of high elves. In fact it was only her eyes that would draw much attention. They were startlingly beautiful emerald orbs of almond shape, held in silver bands much the same color as Xan's own eyes were. _That proved that she couldn't be a half breed._

"Your eyes are green. You have the silver rings said to accompany those of divine lineage. If you are a half elf as you say then why are your eyes not the violet color of such mixed blood?"

Lilliana sighed, sounding eerily comparable to her current companion, as she slumped her shoulders. "I do not know. It hardly matters though does it?"

He expected her to sound angry, but she didn't. Instead she smiled once more as if such an action would fix everything or perhaps dismiss it. "Would you care to help me test the strength of this door? Our captor seems to be long gone. His footsteps have faded beyond ear shot at least."

"I thought you were convinced that your _friends_ were going to come help you?" She was making it awfully difficult to allow himself to wallow in self pity. He wasn't sure how he felt about that, especially since it meant that he had to converse with another person again and this one . . . .was an oddity. Xan did not like that which strayed from normalcy.

"'Us' they are coming for 'us'. There is no reason to think they won't let you accompany the group. That doesn't mean we shouldn't try to greet them at the door, as it were." With a cheeky grin she began to search their little prison for rocks. When Xan continued to slump against the wall she turned to him, a little annoyed. "Well? Come on . . .or did you want to spend the rest of your life down here?"

He managed to rouse himself, though he knew it would be fruitless. At least it helped relieve the boredom. His eyes gave the ground only a cursory glance, not looking _nearly_ as hard as his impromptu companion. Suddenly she made a gagging noise and Xan immediately knew what she had found.

When the high elf prince had been brought here, however long ago _that_ had been, there was a skeleton of a previous prisoner within the same cell. Xan was loathe to go anywhere near it and had left it as it was. The thing was still there and Lilliana it seemed had located it.

"Yes. That is _our_ fate as well so I am not sure why you are so disgusted." Xan offered dryly. Lilliana turned and glared at him.

"You just _left_ the skeleton here?!" There was a heavy note of disbelief in her voice that irked the enchanter.

"What _should_ I have done? Even were I of the inclination to bury the poor soul exactly what would I have dug the hole with? _My hands_?" He retorted, folding his arms across his chest in a posture of utter supremacy. "Perhaps you half breeds are fond of such work but I am a prince of Evereska."

"I had a friend once that had such disdain for others as you did, but somehow she didn't really sound like she believed in it. I cannot say the same for you. Being a 'prince of Evereska' didn't give you a nicer prison than _this_ one did it?" Lilliana added with something resembling a smirk. In the past she probably would have just ignored his words but time with her companions was giving her a back bone. Whether that was for ill or good she could not say, but it _did_ make her feel better.

"I suppose this friend was another half breed?" He snorted.

"No, she was a dark elf." Lilliana responded simply. She was moving around the skeleton, looking for any loose bones.

"_What?!_ You are comparing _me_ to a _forsaken_? To be friends with such a creature . . . you are completely mad!" He couldn't hide his disbelief and was further aghast when the half high-elf looked up at him grinning.

"That is probably true, but have you never heard the phrase that when in the asylum you must do as the madmen do?" There was a finger bone that looked loose enough for her. She made a face at the skeleton and crossed herself.

"Certainly not . . . what are you doing there?" Xan went over to the girl and squinted. It was hard to fathom _what_ she might be _trying_ to accomplish.

"We could use one of these finger bones as a lock pick . . .I think. Admittedly my sister is _far_ better at such things, but she is not here right now, so we will have to try our best." Lilliana pulled at the bone, swallowing past the need to become ill, and finally got it off. The sound of it breaking apart from the skeletal remains made the cleric retch and she had to look away. "Sorry friend but right now we need it more than you. I promise to say a prayer for your soul once we are out of this place." She added to the skeleton.

Xan was beyond disgusted and gave Lilliana a wide berth as she moved to the door. He had no idea what she must be thinking and agreed with his earlier assessment. She must be crazed beyond even the faintest hope of sanity.

* * *

Though their company had been much too large to take quarters within the Friendly Arm the Order had camped outside it's walls. The more delicate of their members, such as the clerics and of course their Shield Maiden, had been afforded some rooms.

Squire Anomen Delryn glanced up the inn's large structure from where he could see it. He sighed. If there was one thing he missed being in the back country it was a nice bed, but he would see himself dead before he complained about such a thing.

There had been talk of who might gain accolades when they were back in Athkatla. Sir Ryan told Anomen that this could mean a consideration for his knighting but Lord Delryn knew it would not. His father had once been a knight and when he had fallen from grace he had ruined not only his own reputation but also damaged the image of the Order. They would not forget such a thing lightly and Anomen knew that whether fair or not such a bad image had _some_ effect on him. If it were not so he might already have the title of knight.

Lord Cadril Valencia had been talking his rubbish as he was wont to do again. Lady Felicia had been a little impressed with Anomen but Cadril was quick to point out that Anomen had killed only _one_ giant; that it had been sheer luck that his 'one' had turned out to be the chieftain. Other members could count thrice that number . . .at least. While he hated Cadril past the point of no return he wasn't unable to admit that what the pompous Sir Valencia said was true. It had been just one defeat that Anomen could claim and it was only luck that would have labeled that defeat as the head of the Hillgnasher Clan.

The young Delryn heir would need something larger in number, or something that involved himself alone without the rest of the Order, if he wanted even a _chance_ at knighthood that year or the next. That was going to be hard. There were many contracts that the Radiant Heart had available but they were all for large groups of knights and their squires.

That night when he went to sleep rest didn't come easy. In the mists of dreams he saw the dying face of his suffering mother. Beside her was his sister, fair and delicate Moira, steadfast as always. She would open her mouth and ask her brother why he had been away when mother died, why he hadn't been there. Anomen could say nothing for the guilt that ate away him like an insidious poison.

As it was every night he dreamed his father would appear. Angry and drunk he accused Anomen of being a horrible son and brother. A disgrace he would say. Ruination of the family. Anomen would scream back, _'No father __**you**__ are! I despise you, filthy drunkard!'_ Then the visage of his sire changed, becoming a long deceased thing with arms reaching from old earth. The young squire would try to run from his now dead father; the corpse that came for him. In the end Lord Cor caught him and pulled him beneath the ground; dirt filling his screaming mouth until he could no longer breathe.

Awaking with a shout of revulsion and terror he twisted from his bed roll, fighting with the blanket that had wound up around his face. Squire Nathaniel's voice reached his ears through the unlit quiet of the large tent the squires shared. "Squire Anomen? Are you alright?"

There were many long moments where the young man took in deep breaths of blessedly cool air before he answered. "I am alright Squire Nathaniel. Go back to sleep." He told the other squire, waiting until he heard Nathaniel's bed roll rustle before _h_e tried to do the same.

_'Oh great Watcher, save me from these dreams! Renew in my ambitions for the future and allow me to be true to the Order and myself.'_ Anomen silently prayed before trying to get some much needed rest.

* * *

It hadn't taken as long as the group initially thought to find their way past the boundaries of the mine. Winding tunnels led them deep into natural caverns far beneath the shored walls of the mining routes. There was a bubbling roar of a lava river far beneath the stone causeway the group passed over. Imoen felt the heat even at _this _distance as overly red light reached up to them and cast them within it's glow.

Ajantis was carrying Lilliana's fallen war hammers, feeling a sense of responsibility for the girl. He had told her that she was in need of no more training from him, that only the training _life_ offered could be of any aid from here on out. Perhaps he had been wrong though. Maybe she _had_ needed more from him and if that were the case he had failed her. If anything had happened to the young cleric he would never forgive himself.

He wasn't the only one. Imoen had been near panicked when her sister disappeared. This made twice now that Lilliana was somewhere all alone and probably afraid. As a sister she couldn't think about that without going stark raving mad with worry.

The group had been moving along as quickly as they could, fighting off even more kobolds as the descended ever deeper. The Harpers had never seen numbers that large before and knew they must be nearing the source of the mine's troubles fairly soon. If Lilliana hadn't been missing they might have taken it slower but her absence made such a pace unwise.

Jaheira couldn't fathom what had happened. Lilliana had been there at the start of their battle. She had seen her begin to call for a conjuration. _What had happened after that? _The thickness of the numbers of kobolds they had fought that first time made it hard to discern much visually. So it was impossible to determine how or when Lilliana had been taken and of that much Jaheira was certain. It was assured she hadn't just wandered off, especially without her two hammers.

No blood was present on the heads of either weapons and that confused the druid. Even had she been conjuring at the start surely sometime during battle Lilliana would have defended herself with her hammers. However when they found them abandoned on the ground there was nothing to suggest she had used them during the skirmish at all.

"There is some kind of structure up ahead. Some moron actually put banners outside the doorway." Kivan had returned from scouting and motioned behind him. "Masses of kobolds. It even looks like the engineer of this operation set up breeding pits for them."

It wasn't uncommon to run across kobold or even goblin foot soldiers but to actually be _breeding_ them? Jaheira bit back her disgust at the idea. "How many exactly?"

Kivan shook his head. "I couldn't even tell you. They are huddled together so thickly within the structure that at times it was hard to even separate their forms with my eyes."

"Y-You said there were b-banners. W-What kind of b-banners?" Khalid asked, putting a hand at the hilt of his blade without even really thinking about it. He had been unnerved from the start. Working through the tight tunnels made it hard, and sometimes nearing impossible, to maneuver well and that made him twitchy.

"I recognize them. A large fist curled with an icy ring of frost around it. It is the sigil of the Chill, hobgoblin bandits for the most part of it." The wood elf ranger furrowed his brow in thought. He had been following that group and many others. They may have been involved in the larger scale robberies along the road but he couldn't begin to fathom how an unorganized bunch of robbers could engineer such a thing as poisoning iron ore. Let alone building a veritable kobold army beneath the deep earth. Apparently the knight shared that thought.

"_Chill? _I've run across them before. Believe me, they lack the kind of intelligence to cause _this _whole mess." The tall human waved a hand about him to indicate the entirety of the mines.

Kivan nodded. "I agree but I can't tell you anything other than what I saw. Perhaps when we investigate further we shall uncover the true mastermind behind this plot . . . and get Lil back in one piece." He added, earning a confused stare from Imoen.

"_Lil? _Since when did you start calling her _that?_"

"Maybe I'm picking up on _your_ quirks trainee of mine." He smiled at the human and she was so shocked that it took her a few moments to smile back.

"Enough talk I say! Boo and Minsc are anxious to find Miss Lily . . .and teach the ones that took her a painful lesson with our sword!" The massive Rashemite hollered and Dynaheir shushed him as the group made plans as to how they were going to approach the kobold den.

* * *

"Ugh! It isn't working!" The Lathanite huffed, falling back on her rear after a rather forceful, and unsuccessful, attempt at picking the lock with the bony finger she held. Finally fed up she tossed the appendage on the ground. "I don't suppose that _you_ can try your hand at getting us out of here?"

She already knew that Xan would refuse trying to pick the lock but maybe he had some magical tricks up his sleeve. Lilliana had already tried calling for her conjurations but either Lathander wasn't in an answering mood or the metal of the bars had been enchanted; not unlike the last cage she had been in.

"If I could do anything to get out do you think I would have still been here when you arrived?" He huffed and Lilliana nodded. Sitting huddled in the corner the enchanter had tucked his legs under him, his skinny frame almost engulfed in robes that looked highly oversized for him. There was a bit of decoration around the cuffs that might have been beautiful if it wasn't so tarnished. He really _had_ been down there a long time.

"Good point." The cleric sighed and went to sit next to the high elf. He eyed her cautiously and moved away from her a pace. She went to say something about that, but apparently decided it was a waste of time. With a laugh she thought how similar to Xan she would sound if she voiced such a thought.

"What could _possibly_ be funny?" Already in a foul mood it wasn't improved by present company. The idea that she was laughing at _him_ seemed entirely possible and not very welcome.

"Nothing your highness. It is just funny the way things work out sometimes and . . .hey, I hear something."

She moved away from him and he breathed a sigh of relief. He didn't like having her so close anyway. As she stood and went to the door the elf's curiosity got the best of him and he joined her. There were noises and it sounded like . . .

"Battle." The cleric spoke and Xan nearly jumped at her voice. "It's my friends! Oh I just know it!" A wide grin was on her face and she began calling for her companions from the door. "Here! I am here!"

"Lady Avalon I don't think that is such a good idea." He cautioned, even going so far as to use her title. It did no good as she kept up with all her racket.

A face appeared at the door but it was not that of any of Lilliana's companions. She yelled as Mulahey shoved the door open and moved inside the cell. "Brought them here didn't you elfy?! Mulahey knows this, Mulahey is smart!"

"_That's_ debatable." Xan huffed and earned the half orc's glare.

"Spies. Both of you is. You make me mad blondie! I let you have girl for play thing, so you stop giving me head ache from whining . . . but you not take her. Why didn't you take her elfy? You both elf-kin, I can see this. Instead you join her, become spy like she is!" Mulahey accused and Lilliana moved away from him, desperately trying to find a way to get around his bulk.

"She isn't my type." Xan retorted, keeping his captor busy with talk while he sought out his quiescent magicka. Mulahey had broken the doors enchantment so he could kill them with one of his _own_ conjurations like as not; but in so doing it was now possible for Xan and Lilliana to access _their_ abilities. The half high-elf hadn't realized that yet but the enchanter did.

"I kill you both!" The half-orc Cyrican cleric roared but was cut short by his surprise. Between the high elf's spaced hands came a crackle of electricity.

"I do so tire of your errant stupidity." Xan remarked, the first grin he had worn in a long while playing on his face. "_Seiraseht misrahndiel_!" He shouted; a surge of lightning bursting forth from his hands and hit Mulahey square in the chest. The half orc flew into the door, his girth shoving it open, and was sent to crash against the opposite wall.

Lilliana looked at Xan with wide eyed awe and a bright smile. "Amazing!"

He almost smiled back but caught himself and soon Lilliana bolted from their prison, grabbing the robes of her cell mate and yanking him after her. They both seemed to stumble out into the hallway. "Do you mind?!" He hollered and she turned to grin at him.

"No I do not. Do _you?" _She pulled him after her again as Mulahey started to rise from his prone position on the floor. "Come on, we have to get to my friends!" Hurrying down the halls she dashed every which way, not having the time to really think about where she was going. Finally they found themselves in a garishly lavish room. Filled with all manner of clothes, jewelry and weapons. Large tapestries adorned the back wall of this room, marked with the sigil of Cyric in the center. One dark blue and black with a giant frozen fist on the left and one with red and black with a clawed talon upon it to the right.

"_Wonderful_. A dead end. Any more bright ideas half-elf?" Xan snorted petulantly. Mulahey's shouts of anger sounded down the hall behind him and Xan had the presence of mind to be rather afraid. The half orc was slow witted but even the dumbest creature was dangerous when in a rage. Prince Malian's long imprisonment had left him undernourished and weak. To be honest he was rather surprised at the burst of power he was able to command back there. He wasn't sure if he could do it again.

Lilliana had moved behind him and was clutching at his robes, chanting a mantra to her god out loud. Xan instinctively took a protective stance in front of her. No matter how annoying the girl was she still was just a girl and he wouldn't let Mulahey hurt her if he could help it. Before he could run through any of the spells he knew by heart the Cyrican cleric appeared inside the doorway.

"I will get you back for hurting me blondie! You _and_ the little whelp!" He made a lunge forward and Xan began to chant a magical missile spell; the only one he knew with short notice.

A fletched arrow zinged through the air and got Mulahey in the shoulder before he could attack the pair. With a grunt the half-orc turned to see yet another elf. This one dark haired and hawk eyed. A long bow was in his hand and another three arrows ready to fire.

"What is it with you elfies!? You is _everywhere_ all of a sudden. I hates elf-kin!" Mulahey growled, going after the archer now. He stopped short when six more humanoids appeared behind the elf. One of them was a human so large that Mulahey wasn't sure he wasn't a half-giant. "This not fair! Too many!" He wailed, just as a conjuration hit his back. He felt the weight of a heavy bullet connect with his skull and growled at the little girl that had called for it.

Dodging the arrows that the elf had shot at him he made a dive for a mace that had been left across an opulent chair. "Come my minions! Save me!" He shouted, holding out the weapon while he called for undead servants.

"Damn it! Get that little fetcher!" A tall half-elf shouted, a wooden stave in her hands immediately.

"Lil!" One short red-headed human shouted and Xan turned to eyeball the half high-elf.

"_These_ are your friends?" He asked, astounded at how many 'friends' she had.

"Yes. I told you they would come!" Lilliana smiled, wanting to go and embrace her sister. A large group of skeletons sprung up around all of them and removed all thoughts but that which was always most prevalent . . . survival. Lilliana grinned, pleased at finding an occasion to be useful. "Undead. My kind of opponents."

Xan turned to look at her, unnerved by the near burning look in her eyes. There was no time for talk left and he immediately shot off the magic missile spell that was burning at his finger tips. It sailed through the air and connected with one of the skeletons. The creature made an unearthly moan in Xan's direction, drawing an enchanted axe.

"Get down." Lilliana's voice came from behind him and he did as she commanded without thinking. It was a good thing because not soon after he ducked a large shockwave burst from her frame and knocked the skeletons down. Several of them had collapsed into piles of bone dust. Those that remained seemed even more intent on doing their master's bidding.

She had also sent some of her companions to the ground; the half-elf druid glaring at the girl as she got up. "You might warn us next time!" She shouted but there wasn't time to respond.

Mulahey rushed with his full weight into Lilliana and sent her careening against a pile of treasure. With a yell she connected with the wall, a waterfall of gems and coins falling down around her as she slid back to the floor. A groan escaped her lips and she shook her head, nearly knocked unconscious.

"Get away from her you sadistic bastard!" The archer elf shouted, fighting his way through the remaining undead. There was a glare of absolute hatred in his eyes, making the normally green-brown orbs nearly black with raw emotion.

Mulahey looked up, almost recognizing the elf for a second but dismissed that thought quickly. His mace was out and his long toothed mouth was in an angry sneer. "Try it elfy! I kill you!" With a bellow he came for the elf but it proved that his opponent was quicker.

The elf ranger had danced easily around Mulahey's clumsy attempts at attack, driven even further by the roaring hatred of vengeance. "No, _I_ kill _you_!" Kivan mimicked. He had immediately identified the filth. He would never forget _his_ face or those that were with him for as long as he drew breath. The half-orc had been there; with the bandits that had killed Deheriana.

Kivan went after the cleric with a zest that caught Mulahey off guard. He sliced at him viciously with a long sword until the half-orc was on his knees, bleeding out all over the floor. In the background the wood elf could see Lilliana trying to get up, an unusually tall blond elf looking through several trunks while fighting off skeletons that came at him, the rest of the group entangled with the dozen or so more undead minions that remained; in truth though he saw none of it. So focused was he on the grunting fiend before him.

"Do you remember my wife? Do you remember how she begged for mercy, for you to just kill her to end the pain?! Your cohorts laughed as they abused her, cut her fair skin to ribbons. _You_ watched as her life's blood was split on the dirty ground! YOU JUST _WATCHED_!!!" Kivan screamed, kicking Mulahey on his back with his boot, holding it there against the half-orc's throat. "Deheriana. Her name was Deheriana! I want you know that before I end your life. Deheriana Alieradon . . .my beloved. Say it! Say her name!" The wood elf ranger held his face mere inches from Mulahey's, the evil cleric's mug a dying mask of pain from the injuries Kivan had already given him. "Say it!"

"Burn . . .in . . .the . . . abyss . . .ELFY!" Mulahey spat, sprays of blood landing on Kivan's face in little flecks. The fires of the abyss itself that Mulahey would wish Kivan into could not have matched the burning in the ranger's eyes then.

"Kivan! Don't! We need him for information!" Jaheira shouted, her voice sounding far away. Kivan ignored her, raising his long blade even with Mulahey's neck. He wailed out his wife's name as he drove the sword deep through the half-orc's flesh and through the other side of his throat. He didn't stop until the blade was grinding against the stone floor beneath. When Mulahey was truly dead Kivan slumped to the ground, sword dropped upon the ground. Sobbing heavily into his stain hands he sat there almost as one lifeless.

With the undead minions gone with their master's death the group was free to move fully into the room. Imoen and Ajantis rushed to Lilliana, both fretting over her terribly. "Lilliana! I am so sorry, if you . . .if you needed more training . . . " Ajantis began but the Lathanite smiled up at him, still a little woozy.

"It is alright. It was nothing beyond the faults that are my own Stupid really." She started, looking about the room. There was a gasp when she saw Kivan and the dead body beside him. "Kivan !" Scrambling to her feet she had to nearly crawl to the ranger but she made it. "Oh Kivan . . . " One hand was placed against his back, saddened deeply as it was sent quaking as the elf's body shook with his grief.

He looked up at her, eyes red with tears and with a sudden motion gripped her tightly and embraced her in a shuddering hug. Lilliana was shocked to see him that way, to have him reach for her, but her heart was heavy with melancholy over whatever suffering was plaguing him, and she held him in kind. Her hands were at his back as she tried to soothe him. _This was it. _This was what had been driving that dark look she sometimes saw in his eyes, what had made him kill the half-orc. Lilliana had heard his words and the name attached to them.

Deheriana. His wife. His _murdered _wife. It made a sudden sense why it was hard for him to befriend anyone . . .to even open up to another person. "It is alright Kivan, whatever happened we will make it right. I promise you. We will find _all_ those responsible and keep them from hurting anyone else." It was a large promise to make but she meant every word. Whatever powers she had would be used and with all the love of a friend she would do what she could. Lilliana whispered against his ear as he clung to her. They sat there like that for long moments.

* * *

When the group emerged from the mine entrance it was still raining. Lilliana raised her face against the sky and let the rivulets of water make pathways down her cheeks. It had been a rather uncomfortable journey back up. Kivan was deathly silent, the others aghast at how violent he had become. Xan was introduced to the group and since then walked in solitude at the rear, occasionally muttering to himself. It was clear the company was not the kind he would have liked. Open sky was a blessing in more ways than one.

There had been loot the group had taken to pay them back for their trouble. It made Lilliana more than a little uneasy. Who knew what persons all those things had been taken from? Perhaps those people had been killed and there were living relatives that would like some of their things back. It wasn't right and she had said as much. Jaheira had of course told her she was being foolish and perhaps she was.

Amongst those things was a fine elven moon blade, belonging to none other than their newest addition. He touched the thing as if it were his lover, now in it's scabbard at the high elf's side. With the prized possession returned to him Xan's mood had improved, but not much.

The puzzle that faced the group seemed a bit closer to being solved but the Harpers were as confused as ever. There was a half-ogre named Tazok that was the superior of Mulahey but if his letters to the half-orc were any indication there were those above _him_ as well. In those letters was the name of wizard named Tranzig who would be waiting for word at Feldepost's Inn. Lilliana was almost looking forward to the journey back up there. Some new books would help calm her nerves, she knew.

Khalid was the one to approach Emerson Argent, master of the mines. The gruff man's jaw practically fell upon the ground when he spotted the group emerging. That look was replaced by a wide smile that Imoen fancied made him look at least ten years younger.

Within Mulahey's possessions were some vials of whatever poison had been mixed with the ore. It was Jaheira's intention to take it to the local alchemists at Nashkel's Temple of Helm but they gave one to Emerson to investigate himself. If they didn't he probably have demanded it anyway.

They had been down in the mine for over a day and Dynaheir certainly felt it and the lack of sleep attached. How easy it was to lose track of the passing of hours without the moon and sun to guide you. The sooner they got to an inn the better she would feel. Still there was a sense of accomplishment that day and the Wychlaran could not help but be proud of the group with which she traveled. _Good deeds thee have done thy friends, good deeds._


	10. Chapter Nine: Time For Cheer

**Disclaimer: **_"Forgotten Realms: Baldur's Gate" belongs to Bioware, TSR, and Black Isle Studios. Lilliana is mine and situations that you don't recognize from the game are mine, all other material and inspiration for my material is under copyright by the above named. Additional Forgotten Realms material included in this story but not in the game belongs to Wizards of the Coast._

**Words From The Author: **_Yes I'm still alive if not a little battered. I've had a few nasty bugs (words of advice, if the cheese tastes funny DON'T EAT IT!) and my mother has been ill in addition to a horribly hot summer. Unfortunately when I did have time to write I didn't have the gumption to do it but I'm back in action. :D Yay! Also apologies if I haven't responded to PMs or given new reviews, I'm getting on that today. This chapter comes with a thank you for waiting and a promise that Chapter Ten is half way done already, so it shouldn't take over a month to update._

_The birth scene in the following text was adapted from factual information from John M. Carlisle and his works on the medieval time period of Europe, so God willing I didn't mess it up. :p_

_As always thank you, dear readers, for joining Lilliana on her journey!_

* * *

_**Chapter Nine:**_

_**Time For Cheer**_

* * *

**Year: 1341, 10'th of Nightal**

**L**ady Lanais Anchev gripped the blood and sweat soaked sheets that covered the birthing table she lay upon until her knuckles were white. Her screams had rung through the long hallways of the Lord's Hall all night. It was a wonder the citizenry of Ordulin hadn't heard her, as loud as she had gotten. Her mid-wife, Celeste Argwaine, was wringing her hands. She was the best woman for this job in all of Sembia and she knew it, but this birth seemed unnaturally difficult. If she wasn't careful they might lose both mother and babe this night. Lord Rieltar wouldn't be pleased by that. The screams continued as another painful contraction ripped through the small woman's frame, making her arch her back.

"Easy there now milady. Deep breathing, like we talked about." The older woman instructed, nodding her head at her only assistant; a young maid of a mere seventeen years. Celeste suspected that the girl might be the mistress of Lord Anchev, but it wasn't her place to say. The nobleman had prevented Madame Argwaine from having any supplementary aides other than the girl. Already the man had proven a difficult roadblock in proper birthing procedures. There was a large fireplace and _that_ at least was suitable as the space had to be warm to insure that things went smoothly. Normally the room that the child was to be born in would have been decorated as the babe would be presented soon after it's arrival. This was especially the case in noble births. However the room Lady Anchev was in was fairly bare of any furniture save the necessities. It had been addressed as very clear to the midwife that this babe would _not_ be shown publicly following the birth.

There was one 'rule' that Celeste had refused to adhere by. Lord Anchev had wanted his pet mage, Kestor Florien, within the room to supervise the birth. Madame Argwaine would be damned if she would let _any_ man in a room where new life was made known to the world, until after such new life had _fully _become known. He was a hair-raising sort anyway, tall and gangly with dark eyes that nearly looked lifeless, and it seemed to soothe Lady Anchev far better to have him waiting outside the door instead.

"Breathe evenly now milady . . .Celeste! S-She's not breathing right!" The girl cried out giving a gasp of shock when Lady Anchev reached out for her.

"Insolent whore!" The blonde mother-to-be screeched as if she was going to tear the girl's face off with her hands, but then she relaxed; breathing becoming paced again if not ragged. In the whispering of each breath there were words, but neither the midwife or her impromptu assistant could make them out. Celeste had spent many a year studying in temples and almost thought it to be the horrid clacking tongue of the demon lords. There was no time to think on things like that though and she banished such foolishness; continuing her ministrations. Lady Lanais didn't seem to have much shout left in her but there was a deep scream that resounded off the four walls when at last the babe was free of it's mother. Beyond that was the hushed tones of the room and the gurgling of the newborn as it strained to breathe. Celeste hurriedly snipped the cord of flesh that connected mother with child and cleared the mucus from the infant's mouth and nose. She took a droplet of warmed honey to place on his tongue; and it most definitely was a 'he'

The young girl leaned over curiously. "Why do you do that?"

"It helps him maintain a healthy appetite. Quickly. Take him to the basin. Lord Anchev wishes him to be bathed in wine. The bottle is on the stand there next to the rocking cradle." The midwife ordered the young girl assisting her, who appeared to still be recovering from Lady Anchev's odd vocal outburst. "Well go girl!" Finally that made the young aide move as she scurried to do Madame Celeste's bidding, watching the older woman from the corner of her eye.

Lady Lanais was slumped back on the table, her breathing rapid but even. Her face was a blanket of sweat and deathly pale. The midwife looked at her worriedly. _She has lost too much blood! _Years of practice had taught Celeste to recognize the encroaching fatality of a mother lost to childbirth and Lady Lanais would be no different. Naught could be done now but call for Lord Anchev. The young assistant was still washing the baby in a basin. Celeste passed by them when she made for the door and for a repulsive moment the wine looked as blood. Cries had ceased to sound from the infant's mouth but he was breathing. His chest had a slight rise and fall to it; eerily vibrant eyes looking about the room as if taking in his new surroundings.

"She has delivered the child?" A thin male voice came from the doorway that Madame Argwaine had not realized had been opened. Lord Anchev stood there tall, imposing and altogether unfeeling. The mid wife tried to smile, finding the expression heavily fraudulent and as stale as the room itself was beginning to feel.

"You have a son Lord Anchev. Should you be wanting then it is well to go and see him. But milord . . ." Celeste trailed off as her voice grew grave. "The Lady Anchev; I fear she will not survive this birth." The old woman's eyes traveled back to the rapidly fading mother.

"Indeed? Perhaps then you two shall leave me with my wife and son. So that I might greet him and bid her farewell?" Rieltar had a handsome face, but now it seemed twisted up in an emotion far removed from sadness or happiness, in fact one would be hard pressed to find anything but indifference there.

"Of course. Come girl, wrap him and then we are away." Madame Argwaine motioned to her assistant who moved surprisingly rapidly to swaddle the infant. Placed in the cradle only his little flushed face was visible from the surrounding clean white linens. Still he didn't cry and Celeste felt a shiver run up her spine. The birth itself, the child and the father were all far too abnormal for her liking and she was more than happy to leave the room. As the two women passed through the doorway Lord Anchev leaned in close to tell Celeste that she would have her payment from Kestor, the mage waiting still out in the hall. The midwife could hardly bring herself to nod but she did, the young girl quick at her heels.

Once the door had been shut Rieltar paced across the room, looking down into the cradle. He had been told that all babes were born with eyes in the coloring of a varying shade of blue, though such a thing was only a passing memory to him. This one however, a son the old shrew had said, had golden eyes. Most unnatural and the Sembian lord once again found himself wondering who had fathered the babe. Just to look at him he knew it had not been the elven bard his wife had been sharing sheets with; the male that Rieltar had killed for such a mark upon him. Rieltar was many things but he had never been capable of siring a child and all the magic in the world seemed unable to cure such a malady. If neither he nor the bard fathered the boy. . . _then who? _A groan from his wife drew his attention and he turned, heavy dark robes seeming to absorb the firelight in the room as he went to her.

"Lanais. You should be proud. All your years of worthlessness at my side and finally you have given me something of use. As you breathe your last you should know that I will raise your bastard son in my vision. He shall carry the name Anchev but he will _earn_ such a title, I assure you." He laid a hand on the inner side of her wrist to see if the pulsing of her blood confirmed the midwife's words. Anyone who could enter the room then, though Rieltar had taken to care to shut the portal seal tightly, might have mistaken the gesture for the gentle touch of a loving husband. Lanais was indeed fading and Rieltar frowned at that. He had wanted to kill the whore himself, so that she would be aware of who had ownership of her and of who she had wronged in trying to flee from. A fool she was to ever think she could get away from one such as him and lucky that her pregnancy had kept her alive awhile longer. If Rieltar hadn't have been in need of a legitimate heir to cultivate to his standards than she would have been disposed of long ago.

"This is not how I wanted this. Still there must be some justice somewhere in the pantheon if they would see you reap what you attempted to sow." Rieltar pondered her fate as his fingers found a long strand of sharp metal twine in his left pocket. "If _fate_ finds you already on your deathbed then I should be permitted to end your suffering, but the question remains: should I?" He asked the room, Lanais lacking the ability to do more than look at him wide eyed. A long garrote instrument was removed from it's hiding spot and he placed it in front of his wife where she could see it. Each end was capped with carved dragon heads, the silver twine between them glinting.

He drew closer to her prone form and she tried to get up, the strength in her dying limbs unable to support such movement. "D-don't hurt . . ." Lanais attempted through a dry breath. Salty tears made their way down her face, perhaps the only form of pleading that she could perform now. "Please . . .n-not my son. D-don't hurt Sarevok!" She warbled out, her voice having all the sound of a dying gull on the shores of the Bay of Selgaunt.

"Sarevok is it? Curious that name, did his father give him such a heading? I care not for naming the bastard, so perhaps he shall keep it. No Lanais, hurt him to kill him . . no. To teach, certainly. You however have no more purpose in my house or _his_ life." Rieltar had finally decided. He had only ever married the weak willed woman to gain control over her family fortune, and as she had been easily manipulated through the marriage so too would her death be under Rieltar's control. No matter if she were already dying it would be him to take her life, not the gods, not the fates . . .only him. No more was said as he wrapped the twine around her throat and pulled as Lanais feebly tried to grasp at it. So sharp was it that it had begun to cut into her pale flesh, blood running from her neck to join with that of the birth that was beginning to dry beneath her.

With the last thought she had her eyes looked to corner of the room where her son lay. _Please . . ._ Her thought fading with her life into the blackness of the ether.

Rieltar tugged until he was sure she was dead, the twine pulling from her skin with a sickening noise. Bright crimson dripped from the metal and onto Lanais' lifeless face before Lord Anchev drew away from his wife's body. His footsteps were soft as Sarevok and the bundle he was wrapped in came back into view. The edge of the wooden carved cradle was in the shape of scallops and Rieltar placed his hands against them, leaning over so he was near to the baby boy's face.

"You won't need your mother . . ._son _. . .but perhaps I should leave you with some memory of her." The garrote was placed in front of the white swaddled babe. For a few long seconds Rieltar considered whether he really did want to keep this boy alive. It would be years before he was truly of any use and much time would have to be spent in the child's development. Patience was something valued by the Sembian nobleman however and it was patience that brooked the greatest reward. Yes, he would keep him.

Droplets of Lanais' blood were purposely allowed to gather in Rieltar's palm before the murderous instrument was pocketed. With the life fluid in hand he dipped a finger into the small puddle that had colored his skin. He let beads of crimson fall into the infant's mouth, open ajar. "Taste of your mother and know that the foolishness in her blood will not be tolerated within _you _. . .Sarevok." The infant closed his lips, stained with the liquid remnants of Lady Lanais and still warm, and made a sound close to mewling. He looked up at the man before him as if he understood the words; odd golden eyes reflecting Rieltar's face.

* * *

**Year: 1368, 3'rd of Kythorn - (_present_)**

Though the moon that evening was bright the tome that lay heavy and open upon the table cast a great darkness about the room, absorbing the light and casting its own black flame across the walls. Sarevok stared at it with eyes open and gilded. Both hands were upon his head, shaven from all hair and glistening with a slight film of sweat across the bare skin. The day had been a trying one, even for him. How much more would he have to dance upon Rieltar's stage he wondered and the only pleasant thought to be had then was that it wouldn't be long. Soon Rieltar Anchev would be little more than a rotting corpse and Sarevok would use all his 'father' had built to become the most powerful man in all the reaches of the Heartlands and beyond. Even that did little to soothe his anger and feelings of failure at another prospect.

The Book of Chaos should have opened for him. He must have had the power for the sentient tome to recognize. No matter how hard he tried though it wouldn't allow him to read its pages. The cover opened only sufficiently enough to attack his senses with a force to make it feel as if his brain was leaking out his ears. In his subconscious it was as if he could hear Bhaal laughing at him . . . _and why not? _It had been Sarevok's birth father that created the tome so too would it be that only the lost god would know all of its secrets. _Soon, soon father and I will have all of your powers and you will not deny me then!_ He thought, a triumphant grin pulling up the corners of his full mouth. As late as the evening was progressing he knew he couldn't spend much more time with the great artifact and so it was no surprise when a knock came at the heavy door.

"Hssss. Lord Anchev, it is Ssshalak."

A strange voice permeated through the wood and Sarevok nodded to himself. When he opened the door he knew there would be a gray face, neither male nor female. A doppelganger, a monster that would take the form of any it wished once the original was killed. The young lord smiled. Let _Rieltar _try and gain the aid of such creatures and see where it got him. No, only Sarevok could accomplish such a thing. "Come in Shalak."

Wrapped in a cloak only long gangly arms were visible from the yards of dark fabric, nasty hooked fingers at the end. As if merely a blink of the eye had passed the figure beneath the cloak shimmered and was suddenly in the form of a young male human. The false image was completed with a shock of mussed brown hair and nervous gray eyes, revealed when the hood was pulled back. It smiled at Sarevok and the warlord could see small remnants of flesh wedged between teeth that were only an illusion. If the doppelganger took this form it must mean that it killed this young boy whose appearance was standing opposite Lord Anchev now.

"This is an interesting look Shalak. If I recall was not your last appearance that of a young man? Fond of patrolling the dock yards are we?" Sarevok began almost conversationally and the doppelganger nodded his head, the cloak fallen completely away and resting on stolen shoulders.

"Yesss. Boy flesssh is very good. Sssooo young and alllivvvee." The eerie voice warbled out, hissing in a fashion akin to portal fiends. Just as soon as the real tones beneath had been purposely revealed to Sarevok so too did the voice take on the muted and nervous speech of a young human male. "You did call for me my lord didn't you? I have already contacted the others and we are ready to move at your command. Unsure we all are as to why there is to be a change of plans now."

Sarevok placed the Book of Chaos back into a drawer of a massive oak desk. No matter what office he had been placed in through the years, either as the owner or a visitor to such a room, he could never become entirely comfortable and he hated sitting anywhere for a given length of time. The large man suspected that it simply was not in his nature to be behind a desk barking orders. He belonged in the thick of the action, controlling events not only by sheer force of will but by that of his physical presence. Nonetheless he did take a seat then, motioning for Shalak to sit as well, arms resting on the freshly waxed top of the wood. He leaned back for a moment, studying the false facade of the doppelganger before he responded. "Not nearly so much a change of plans as a slight deviation. An 'addition' if you like. Seven Suns will provide a nice venue for the business of the Iron Throne, surely, but it has also come to our attention that Aldeth Sashenstar is out of town and his little league is being run by his associates; weaker willed than even that frilly fop is."

If such a thing as elation could be visible on a face as wavering as Shalak's it was now. It grinned widely. "You wish us to kill more monkeys for you? Take their faces? I am pleased by this . . ." The doppelganger was not allowed to finish when Sarevok held up a palm to silence him.

"Calm yourself. It would hardly do to have you looking so excited. For now I want you to watch Manycoins and see how they do things there. _If_ I want you to infiltrate the League I will give notification." He took observation of the palpable disappointment on Shalak's facade. Precautions would have to be doubled. Doppelgangers were a bloodthirsty lot and Sarevok couldn't have them getting too hungry. "I have another question for you before you depart." The doppelganger looked at him questioningly as he continued. "How good are you at mimicking a Sembian accent?"

"I can speak any accent that I have sampled with perfection. Sembian . . . " Shalak seemed to think about it. Before long Lord Rieltar Anchev's snooty and cold voice reverberated through the lips of a young dockworker. "Why do you ask my 'son'? Tis not comforting that you ask these questions. I will not take kindly to your interference." Shalak finished, a exultant smirk on his wavering face.

"You just copied Rieltar. . . that's interesting." Sarevok grinned back. "For that is exactly the voice I was curious if you could imitate."

* * *

"No, no and no. Listen here you simpleton . . . this is hardly worth _one _hundred gold coins, let alone _four _hundred!" Xan was holding an enchanted necklace in front of a flustered merchant, small beads chinking together as he waved it about rather violently. The brightly hued canvas walls of the tent around him didn't offer the dark and dreary environment that would have been preferable for intimidation but he didn't stop trying, voice growing more irate by every passing second. "I will not be taken advantage of charlatan!"

The thin merchant was making swipes at the necklace trying to get it back but each time the elf would move it just out of reach. "Well if'n ya don't want to pay fer it ya ain't gettin it, fancy pants!" Finally the man got a decent hold on his item but the mage still had a healthy grip upon it. Both males pulled at the piece of jewelry roughly. When it seemed as if the merchant would get it back there was the sound of something snapping and suddenly the necklace broke, beads and gems falling onto the packed earthen floor.

"Now you've done it! Fool humans! Always your greed gets the better of you!" Xan shouted, more than ready to leave the merchant's tent and seek some items elsewhere throughout the faire grounds.

"Ya broke it! That's it I'm callin' the guards!" The tradesman threatened, already going about the task of picking up the pieces of his item.

Xan huffed and walked out of the tent with what he hoped was flourish. "Do not bother! It isn't worth the trouble." Walking outside he gave one of the traveling merchant's assistants a dirty look. The young boy pouted up at him before sidestepping the enchanter and moving around to the other side of the tent. Xan continued to walk back towards where the group was encamped, now utterly beyond any need to even attempt to go shopping.

It was good that he already purchased new attire. He ran his hands and eyes over the brocaded embroidery that created an illusion of silver vines down his cloak encased chest. Such needlecraft could hardly compare with that of the high elves but it would have to do. The sisters, unbearably frolicsome for his tastes, had been running amuck at the mouth with talk of a country dance to finish off the evening at the faire. If Xan was to go, and he was yet undecided if he even wanted to, the clothes he now had would be suitable enough.

Now that the weather had turned, a starlit sky had begun to peek out from dissipating gray misty clouds. _Perhaps Evereska was under that same sky, the soul of the city peering up at those same stars._ Contemplations of home caused a ripple of unpleasant emotion, that which humans might call being 'home sick'. Xan would have preferred to be immune to such wasted feelings, but alas he was not. His footfalls were purposely heavier than normal as he tromped along. A myriad of decorative lanterns had been hung by twine overhead and made his platinum hair look nearly ivory. He passed by them with a scowl looking as if it would forever more be etched on his handsome face.

Thoughts of the calamity that was his life inevitably took pride of place in Xan's mind as the anger at stupid humans, or more importantly ignorant human _merchants_, ebbed to a low boil of malcontent. Large multihued tents were catching the light wind, left over from the now dying storm, and billowed in waves of bright colors that had been darkened by the persistent precipitation that day. Bigger tents had been drawn up in the northern most area of the faire, holding games and gambling tables within for avaricious fools to waste their miniscule coin upon.

Though the weather would have made for a rather miserable faire the deliverance of the Nashkel Mines seemed enough of an event to be cause for celebration; now that such conditions had improved it was highly probable that the festivities would continue late into the evening. It was as if there had been no rain at all, performers dancing about in the mud as if it was little more than a part of their acts. Pondering that Xan could not fathom how easily humans fell into emotions; be it that of elation, hatred, or obsessive love. Though perhaps it was because of their short lives that they had no appreciation for the slower and finer things, always anxious to get matters done as soon as possible.

It would have been preferable to spend the night within the inn, though the shack had looked hardly comforting from the distance which Xan had seen it earlier. However after word reached town that the mines were open for business all manner of citizenry and celebrating miners had flooded the place. Many had even drawn up shoddy stools to loiter outside the building, their raucous and rowdy behavior only proving how easily amused a lot they were. For a guarantee of less crowded quarters the group had decided to pitch camp at the nearby faire grounds; close enough to town to be convenient and offering a friendly and wider spaced environment for bedding down that evening. The high elf still didn't know why the group wasn't tired of resting in the out-of-the-doors but it wasn't as if he was in a position to complain; not exactly swimming in personal coin to afford his own quarters elsewhere.

Tell tale giggling that could only belong to two annoying girls caught his pointed ears and his glower deepened as the camp came into view. All but Kivan were there, talking and getting ready for the dance. Any purchases made must have already been taken care of, save a small box of hair ribbons and pins that Lilliana had at her sandaled feet. She would occasionally reach a hand inside to pull out adornments to place in her sisters hair; Imoen seated on a rumpled cloak in front of the cleric. She waved up at Xan when she saw him approach and he gave her a very short nod of recognition. Looking around he saw that Kivan was indeed nowhere in sight. It was possible, but unlikely, that he was inside one of the tents. Far more apt was the prospect that the brooding wood elf had gone off alone somewhere to wallow in self-loathing. Though Xan certainly didn't know the ranger, nor did he have any interest to, he would say that Master Alieradon's behavior in the mines was disturbing, very unlike and improper a way to act for any elf. However long moments of contemplative silence just made Kivan seem anti-social. The enchanter almost laughed when he thought of how many times _he_ had been accused of being much the same way.

The group was caught up in their own interactions it seemed, either purposely ignoring him or genuinely not paying attention. He took that rare occasion where neither of the sisters were attempting to engage him in conversation and made to enter his tent. With only four tents and nine group members it was easy math. Obviously the Harpers would be together, to lay in married 'bliss' no doubt, the Angolan witch and her guardian had their own tent and that left two options, he would either be bunking with the broody ranger and the pious knight or the sisters. Neither prospect was enticing but with the wood elf and the blonde man it wasn't likely he'd be caught listening to girlish giggling through the night. _What a way for a prince of Evereska to be spending his evening._

Ajantis turned to watch the high elf walk into _his_ tent and scowled. "I suppose we know where he'll be staying tonight. Pity." The knight felt a slap against his shoulder and turned surprised eyes Dynaheir's way, her own face looking equally surprised as well as a bit terse. "What? My dear Mistress Angolan it's hardly a secret that he's not the easiest of elves to get along with. Good that I have my field guides to read tonight." Ajantis smiled winningly and he could see the corners of Dynaheir's mouth twitching, wanting to go up as well.

Glancing about him he noticed that the others were all looking rather good. He had dressed in a decent tunic, making sure he was freshly shaven and his hair neatly combed; Dynaheir seated beside him in what he supposed were dress robes and burgundy hair pulled up in a tight knot beset with little purple larkspur flowers. Her guardian still looked imposing but without his armor and dressed only in a silver and wine colored tunic, breeches and boots he had cleaned up very agreeably.

Across the way Jaheira and Khalid seemed to be . . . Ajantis blinked . . . flirting with each other! It wasn't as if they had no affection for one another but he certainly didn't expect either Harper would be the type to so openly kiss and pet one another in public. Looking at them he guessed it might have been the mood. It was pleasant and on the heels of recent accomplishments it was a very welcome respite. Khalid had on a rather elaborate sleeveless brocade vest over a silk dress shirt, his tan breeches looking nice against the russet and gold colors of the vest. Jaheira beside him had put on a pretty light green skirt, cut by the knee and showing off a rather attractive pair of legs above low crested boots. A shirt of green and white embroidery made her look akin to a forest fairy to Ajantis' eyes . . .a pleasing difference from the druid's usual attire.

It had been Imoen and Lilliana to dress up the most which didn't surprise Ajantis one bit. They were both young girls and this no doubt reminded them of the not-so-far-past days of home and of simpler things. Imoen looked positively radiant. She wore an off the shoulder dress in dusty pink, small white silk flowers sown onto the neckline and dotted at a gathered side by her right hip. The skirt of the dress flared out in pleated layers at her feet to reveal pretty silver sandals, a match to those that Lilliana wore. Red curls had been pulled up and caught in the ties of several ribbons, decorative pins still being worked here and there by the hands of her sister. Finally Ajantis' eyes fell on the older of the two girls. Lilliana was seated above Imoen still working at the human's hair, her face in nearly studious concentration. Her long hair had been braided and wrapped around her head to create the illusion of a crown, silver studded pins strewn throughout the braid. A slender frame was made even more so by a periwinkle colored sleeveless dress falling loosely in silk sheaves of fabric. The neck had a low gathered appearance which would have been flattering on a woman of more full figure. Ajantis noted that perhaps it wasn't the best choice for the rather child-like looking cleric but she was dressed nicely nonetheless.

"Perhaps tis well for us to get going Sir Ilvastarr?" Dynaheir's sultry voice came at his side and Ajantis looked back, nodding and rising to let her take his arm with her own.

"Why yes my lady, I was thinking exactly the same thing."

Lilliana watched the pair go with a smile, Imoen watching them as well. "They look nice together." The half high-elf remarked and her sister just wrinkled her nose at her. "We should really go check and make sure Kivan is alright before we go . . ."

"Aww Lil! Come on! That sourpuss'll be fine and 'sides ya don't even know where he went." Imoen whined, rising from her place on the ground to stand before her sister. She watched Lilliana's face knowing full well that once she made her up mind to help someone she really _made up her mind._ Likely her need to check up on the wood elf was another instance of that. "Argh! Alright, well I'm goin' with Minsc then . . .you make sure you get there or I'll pop ya one I will!" She added, moving off to join the Rashemite giant.

"Yes ma'am" Lilliana smartly saluted before collecting up the admittedly too long skirt of her dress and moved off. She actually had a very small idea of where the wood elf ranger might have gone. He was fond of sitting on knolls when he could find them, the ground there usually more dry than it would be in lower lying areas. Lilliana had seen a few around the faire grounds and one wasn't far from their camp. Many times that night she had almost gotten up the courage to go out there but kept hoping Kivan would come back on his own.

She knew full well what most of the others were thinking about him now, Jaheira even saying out loud that she felt uncomfortable with such a 'hazard' in the group as an unbalanced ranger. Then again she had said something similar about the hazard Lilliana presented when she made foolish attempts to find a peaceful solution in the thick of combat. The young cleric was beginning to question the wisdom of telling the group how she had been kidnapped by the kobolds.

Lilliana shared _some_ of their trepidation about the ranger though, how could she not? Up until then Kivan was fairly calm. There had always been a darkness in his eyes but it was well checked to be sure. To see him snap so was unnerving but Lilliana could understand. She remembered ripping apart that ghoul after it was well defeated and the feelings of something akin to glee at her own actions. _Had it been madness?_ Surely. _Was it a madness like that which had gripped Kivan?_ Quite possibly and in the end the wood elf had handled it better than she had. He had been immediately stricken by a mix of his own actions and his pent up feelings . . .Lilliana wasn't sure _what _she had been the night her father died and of the two of them her brand of grief-suffering-psychosis was more dangerous. She had almost attacked her own sister when Imoen had dared to suggest resurrecting a ruined corpse . . . Kivan had only attacked Mulahey in such a fashion.

The half high-elf had moved past the boundaries of the faire and their camp. Blades of wet grass managed to get in to tickle her feet in the places where the open sandals left her skin bare. A large formation of stone was at her left and she leaned against it. Most anyone that was in this area would be near the faire and not beyond it, she hypothesized. _Going on that theory couldn't she call for a conjuration to detect humanoids and narrow down her search?_ "My Lord Lathander, I'm sure you are well sick of answering calls for my more petty requests but _he_ needs a friend I think and _I _need your guidance. Help me to find my lost companion." She called out and swore she could feel an amused murmur around her at the less than conventional conjuration. A few moments later a heartbeat she knew wasn't her own sounded in her ears like a siren call and she followed the direction of the sound, stopping short to find Kivan hunched over and talking to himself.

"Ahem. I'm sorry to interrupt your . . . to interrupt you. The dance is starting and I find myself in need an escort." She found her voice and without delay had decided against asking him if he wanted to talk. His demeanor struck her senses like a bucket of ice water and there was an immediate understanding that if she wanted to draw him from his reverie a different sort of tactic would be needed.

If there hadn't been an inkling that he was deep in an elven meditation they called 'reverie' his reaction to her sudden appearance proved it. When he turned around after jumping in surprise his eyes were dazed for several moments before the green-brown orbs focused and he truly looked at her. His glance was cold and detached. Lilliana hated to see him that way and it shouldn't have been. Perhaps if she had drawn herself as person easier to share his feelings with he wouldn't have bottled them up. She swallowed and took a step forward. He stood abruptly and had propped himself against a tall oak.

"What do you want?" Kivan noted her flinch at the animosity of his voice and sighed. "Lilliana, please, I don't want any company and I doubt mine is the kind of companionship that you would take pleasure in either."

"Well I'm not leaving until you come with me. So you can stay up here but you won't be alone and then I'll miss the dance and it will be your fault." She tried, using what Imoen referred to as 'guilt tactics' on the wood elf. He blinked at her several times as if unable to believe what she had just said.

"You can't be serious. I didn't ask you to come up here . . . how did you find me anyway?" Kivan asked curiously.

"Lathander helped me. He knew that I needed a suitable escort to the dance. You see Jaheira has Khalid, Dynaheir has Ajantis and Imoen has Minsc . . .and Boo." She smiled at that brief thought before going on. "So that would leave me with Xan, and thanks but no thanks . . . besides I don't think he wanted to go anyway."

"Neither do I." Kivan turned away from her hoping that she'd give up and leave. . . of course that had never been Lilliana's way. A faint grin pulled at his mouth when he heard her 'hmph' of annoyance at his back.

"Well _I_ want you to. Isn't that enough?"

A reply had been ready on his lips, he had been sure she'd make a vain attempt at saying something witty . . .but she had not and he was left unsure as to what he should say. Her face was full of uncertainty. Perhaps Lilliana wasn't sure what to expect the ranger to say anymore than he was.

"Are we not friends you and I? At first I came up here to talk to you about . . . well you know what I wanted discuss I'm sure but now . . .I just want you with me Kivan. Who knows how many more nights the group will have like this, where we can just enjoy ourselves. It is a rare time for cheer that we have. These moments of reflection are fine but you should take the opportunity for merriment when it comes . . . if for nothing more than to prove to your friends that you enjoy being at their side, that you would stand with them not only through the bad but the good as well. So I ask you again, are we not friends?"

Groaning the wood elf looked at her plainly. To her it was an easy answer to give but to Kivan it was not. To a wood elf who hadn't had a friend in a long time and hadn't wanted one in just as long it was no easy answer at all. He took a deep breath as he forced the words out, their meaning true but hard to say. "Yes . . . yes we are friends Lilliana."

Pale lips smiled up at the wood elf, short as the half high-elf was even by elven standards. "Then do you really want me standing up on a knoll with the ground damp, wearing a thin dress and no cloak?" A merry light was in her eyes as she stood with the ranger and moved closer to him.

"No, I don't suppose I do." Kivan had taken time to wash up and put fresh clothes on, quite frankly the smell of must bothering even him, but he wasn't sure it was the right kind of attire to go out in. "I'm hardly dressed for dancing though."

"Oh, pfah, you look fine to me." Lilliana grabbed his hand and pulled him after her as the two left the knoll.

* * *

Rowdy partying in the largest of tents went on with the equally boisterous music. The band that Mayor Ghatskill had procured seemed more suited for country gatherings in any case. The dance was being held in the largest of the tents, the gambling tables that had been there pulled far to the side by burly townsfolk wanting to make room. The colorful lanterns that had been outside were hanging within in swooping lines, shining against the brightly hued fabric in a dizzying play of color and light. Bar stools, chairs and small tables had been dragged to the faire from the local inn, the temple and anywhere else that they could be found. Someone had even set up a makeshift bar. Several barrels full of home-made spirits had been attached to taps and the smell of frothing ale and honeyed-mead was thick.

A red haired half-elf wove a line through the party-goers, heading towards his wife with two mugs foaming over with something one of the men had told him was called 'Nashkel Beer'. He'd already sampled some himself and was grinning ear to pointed ear at the thought of Jaheira drinking it. She smiled at him and waved when she spotted him. 'I-I have s-something new for you to t-try tonight darling." Khalid was still grinning when he handed her the mug.

"Something new? Perhaps we can try even more 'new things' later tonight my love." Jaheira winked suggestively and Khalid smiled wider. Their spirits were high that evening and the druid was in a rare mood . . .one that worked out nicely for a husband that found his wife just as desirable as he had the day they were married.

Imoen was having more fun teaching Minsc how to dance than she had in a while. She grinned widely over at her sister, still amazed that Lilliana had managed to drag Kivan out after all. Not half as surprised as she was when Xan entered the tent, the well groomed high elf looking a little out of place. He hadn't done much in the way of dancing but a few times Imoen caught his feet tapping against the earthen floor when a particularly lively jig was playing.

A slower song began and Imoen frowned going over to sit next to the Evereskan prince. "So, watcha doin?" More than a few younger females had been looking in his direction, obviously admiring Xan's high elven good looks. Imoen snickered to herself when she imagined how much more arduous those girls would be if they knew he was a prince. He'd have to beat them off with the hilt of his Moonblade.

"Certainly not sitting here waiting for conversation from _you_. This music isn't to my preference but it is certainly lively .. . why did you stop dancing?" He turned silver eyes on her and Imoen shrugged.

"Slow songs are boring . . .unless I have a boy to dance with, then they're nice. Hey . . . _you_ wanna dance with me?" She asked the question more to see his reaction than anything else. She wasn't disappointed.

Xan's pale features went blush at that, though whether he was perturbed, shocked or embarrassed Imoen couldn't tell. Likely it was all three. However what she wasn't expecting was for him to calm down but he did, contemplating the other dancers. "Hmm, perhaps it would be an interesting study to see how you humans dance when paired with elves."

"Like a kinda contest ya mean?" Imoen asked, genuinely puzzled at his reaction.

A wide smile was on his face, a devious look in his eyes. "Yes, like 'a kinda contest'" His sarcastic mimic of Imoen's wording came with a hand extended towards her. She looked at it . . .twice.

"Ya serious? You actually _want_ to dance with me?" It was pretty hard to believe and the stare he was giving her made her nervous. She felt ogling at her back and was sure it was the jealous glances of the girls that had been watching Xan. "Well sure . . .I mean I asked ya right? Let's go . . .your highness." The red head added for effect. Lilliana was shooting her a quizzical look from across the room, one brow up. Imoen shrugged her shoulders, grinning, as Xan led her out onto the dance floor.

Though the music was slow Xan was managing to set the pace with a long series of complicated steps. Imoen tried to follow, almost stepping on her partner's feet more than a few times. She was peering over the elf's shoulder, all the while bemoaning her ridiculous lack of height, to see who was laughing at her. Oddly enough no one was. Kivan, who had been in a funk all that day, was even watching in awe from his seat at the table with Lilliana. It was then that Imoen realized she had begun to keep up with her partner. Not willing to think about it in depth, and thereby lose whatever miraculous lucidity her body had gained, she went along with. The thrumming of the band played in her head, beating a tempo against her temples and the small red head moved with the sounds as if they were alive.

Finally the dance was done, leaving Imoen breathless and her face flushed. She fanned at it suddenly beset with a fit of the giggles. Xan looked at her, rather perturbed that he hadn't managed to make Imoen look the fool, and bowed curtly before returning to the seat he'd had previously. Lilliana was grinning at her sister, obviously pleased that Imoen had managed to match Xan's steps. So much for high elf superiority. Imoen smiled over at the prince, for once finding his company a little . . .enjoyable.

* * *

Kivan was walking beside Lilliana, the gentle weight of her curled hand around the crook of his elbow. Her sandals made soft sounds on the still-moist ground as she stepped lightly. The wood elf had to slow his gait to make sure he wasn't dragging the half-elf girl along after him. A momentary image of such an action flashed through his thoughts and he chuckled briefly.

"I am glad to see that your mood is improved a little. I told you that time with the group would make you feel better." Lilliana admonished, carefully stepping over a small puddle in the dirt.

He was more than willing to indulge her in that belief and she wasn't _entirely_ wrong. Though nothing could take away his bile towards himself at his actions, watching the companions dance, sing and make merry was a nice derailment from dark thoughts. Several times throughout the evening the ranger found that he was smiling in genuine enjoyment, something that surprised him a great deal.

"Present company increases the odds of making your words ring true." Kivan added, looking over at the cleric who in turn smiled at him shyly.

"That wouldn't be a compliment would it?" She asked cheekily.

"I would never think of doing such a thing." He responded, just as sly.

They both snorted in amusement before Lilliana held up a palm and motioned Kivan to stop. A stone had managed to work itself between the sandal and Lilliana's foot. She kneeled down to get it out while her companion waited, his eyes traveling over the faire grounds as it was closing down for the evening. The rest of the companions had made it back to camp already, Lilliana fallen behind after insisting on one last purchase. A pair of water-proofed boots for Kivan, his current ones stinking to the high heavens of must from the lower levels of the mine.

All but one other pair at least was back at camp, for Ajantis and Dynaheir had also done some last minute shopping. Today was the first, Kivan noticed, that Minsc hadn't been around the pretty Rashemite all day. Instead the bald giant had spent a great deal of his time entertaining and being entertained by Imoen. Ajantis nodded his head when he noticed Kivan looking his way. An abrupt sound of colliding bodies and surprised shouting shocked the wood elf back to Lilliana.

He distinctly heard her yelp, stumble and fall all in succession. When he whipped about to figure out what had happened he found Lilliana apologizing to a peacock of a woman. The other female was human but just as short of stature as Lilliana. Though any other defining features would be difficult to discern under the layers of make up, jewelry and clothes she wore. Kivan couldn't be positive but she looked to be clad as a gypsy might.

"Fret not little girl. It was my fault to begin with I am thinking. Here let me help you up." The voice gave away her age but she moved surprisingly well for a human of so many years. She looked up at Kivan, blinking through heavily kohl lined eyes, and smiled. "Or perhaps if your handsome father would allow it I can give you a reading of your future as an act of contrition." The gypsy continued to wait patiently while Lilliana and Kivan exchanged glances, both a little amused that she either thought Kivan old enough or Lilliana young enough to be father and daughter. The woman was obviously confused. Though both had distinct elven features such appearances were hardly in kind.

"That is not necessary milady. Thank you for the offer though." Lilliana finally answered, already having pushed herself back up from the ground. She wiped her hands across her dress, either not thinking or not caring about smudging the fabric. Lilliana was smiling shyly as she extended a hand for the woman to shake. "Truly, again I am sorry for not watching where I was going." The cleric's eyes went wide as the older woman took her hand, but instead of shaking it turned it about and looked at it.

"Nonsense. Let it never be said that Madame Stravinsky is not one for offering kindly service in exchange for misdeeds. Now let me see here . . . .such nice hands." She smiled at Lilliana and when the cleric would have protested again she only shushed her. "I must have silence to work."

Kivan almost wanted to chuckle at the plain discomfort Lilliana appeared to be feeling but didn't dare. Instead he tried to give her his most sympathetic gaze, something one with his temperament was hard pressed to achieve successfully. The gypsy was running her fingers along the lines of Lilliana's palm, tracing them with a look of concentration on her aged face.

"Yes . . .I see. You have the hands of a courtier, hands meant for cotillions and grand parties . . . delicate hands . . . fingers made to caress the pages of books. In fact you have only recently taken to the road. You are feeling that it isn't the place for you. Those you travel with doubt you but their uncertainty is fading as they are growing closer to you. Your father is . . .gone . . . oh, so the elf is not your father? How curious. Wait, going back I see that this father . . . Gorion was his name yes?" She waited for a nod from the now enraptured half high-elf before she continued. "A fine man he was, wise and kind. So in love . . . his wife was to give birth to a child, a girl . . . but wait . . .he was _not_ the one that sired you, even if you would call him father . . .the sire is . . . . the sire is . . .Madrid engarim theliel!" She finished in her native tongue, shocked and terrified as she looked up at Lilliana.

"What? What is it? The sire is who?" Confusion, worry and anxiousness fought for a place on Lilliana's face. Kivan was at her side immediately, having set his new boots down and was now leaning in by instinct in case the woman tried to attack the petite half-elf next to him. More and more the gypsy was looking at Lilliana as if she were some kind of monster.

"A-A simple mercenary. Just a traveler. You are going to have a fine future." The woman finished quickly, beginning to move off rapidly. Lilliana reached for her to ask her what it was she _really _saw and the gypsy screamed. "Stay back! Get away from me!" She reached out towards Lilliana as if to attack her, shoving the girl back to the ground. "Stay away!"

Ajantis left Dynaheir's side and rushed over to Lilliana, quick to defend the girl. Kivan had also moved in front of Lilliana but the woman made no action to come at her again, instead making to get as far from the cleric that she could. The elf raised a brow quizzically at the odd behavior. "What in the name of the Seldarine was that all about? " He asked, turning back to the cleric as she was rising to her feet and dusting herself off for the second time.

"I don't know. She _seemed_ sane enough but I certainly can't think of anything in _my_ past that would make her run off in terror. My sire couldn't have been _that_ horrible; my father would have told me about him had that been the case." Lilliana was looking increasingly irritated as she began walking again, motioning Kivan along with her.

Dynaheir was waiting for her escort and he returned to her side but continued to watch the cleric curiously. "Yes, let us hurry back to camp before we are accosted by any more of the mentally unbalanced." Ajantis remarked, the Rashemen witch nodding her head beside him in agreement. The cleric was right, she had seemed sane enough and then had just went off her hinges for no apparent reason.

"I quite agree. Do you have your boots alright? Good, let's go." Lilliana asked Kivan without needing an answer. Trying to smile away the palm reader's eruption was proving to be a fruitless attempt. She had a feeling the discomforting tingling sensation up her back from the encounter would continue all through the night, at least until she fell asleep.

* * *

_It was mid Ches in the Dalelands and a hearty snow was beginning to melt but always there was the threat of one last storm before spring officially made itself known. Lilliana had been feeling pent up all that long winter, as a child of five was likely to become. As soon as blades of dark green began peeking up from a dissipating white blanket she was begging her father to go out and play. Finally today Gorion had let her, going out with her and stressing that Lilliana not get too far ahead of him._

_The pair had been staying at a small farm house. By then little Lilliana had begun to get curious as to why they were always moving around and why they hardly saw any other people. Sometimes they would get visits from her Papa's friend, Master Sartonis Alieradon and once or twice a very tall white bearded man in mages robes who Gorion had only ever called 'E'. Her father had answered such inquiries cautiously, explaining only that they were on a long trip to find their new home and that friends of her Papa let him stay at places they owned but weren't using. For a little while it was enough explanation for the half-elf child._

_"Lilliana! Lilliana where are you?!" There was panic in Gorion's voice as he called for his daughter. She had managed to get out of his sight on a unrewarding hunt for the wildflowers that wouldn't be up for at least another month. She could hear his voice but the trees were thick and her small eyes couldn't find him. Finally there was a clearing and Lilliana went towards it calling out her father's name._

_Without warning she was snared up, a line of webbing catching at her ankles and hoisting her into the trees. Her small lungs forced out a large scream that grew louder when she saw three massive arachnid bodies dropping down from their hiding place in the boughs to retrieve their prey. "Papa! There are monsters! I'm scared!" She squealed, the blood rushing to her head from her upside-down position beginning to make her feel queasy._

_The noises she was making were muffled as one of the spiders got her down and had begun to wrap her in a bundle of webbing. She choked against the organic material, finding it sticky and oppressive. There was nothing to see but a blanket of dull gray as she was completely covered. Her lungs were aching to get air. Then there was a voice, gentle and calm._

_'Accept me into your heart my star shine, accept me and I will help you get out.' The voice offered and Lilliana wasn't sure how she knew but she understood that the voice was coming from inside her own head and she answered accordingly._

_'Papa? Papa is that you? Help me, I'm scared!'_

_'Calm dearest, calm. Yes it is your papa.'_

_'I'm confused . . . you sound funny, are you really my papa?'_

_'Yes. Accept my aid and I will free you from the spiders.'_

_'I ACCEPT! I ACCEPT! Please help me!'_

_A sudden strength surged through her young frame and she ripped the webbing asunder. The surprised spider turned to look at her with eight large eyes. Lilliana grinned at it and dug her thumbs into two of those yellow orbs, pushing them out of the black shell-like face as the spider screamed. She could see her reflection in the remaining six eyes. Her young body had begun to take on the appearance of some kind of monster and in her head she knew . . .the voice was right, it had helped her, it had made her stronger and nothing would ever prey on her again!_

Lilliana woke up with a gasp, surprised to look around her and see the walls of the tent and not the trees of the wooded places of the Dalelands. She remembered the incident with the spiders well, it had after all been the cause of her arachnophobia, but nothing like what the voice in her dreams offered had happened. The spiders, and there had been three of them, must have been driven out by the early thaw and were hungry for fresh food. They had indeed begun to wrap young Lilliana up but they never finished. Gorion arrived and sent them scurrying away with a barrage of fire spells, killing one of them, and tore apart the webbing around Lilliana. The sage had carried his daughter away from the scene, hugging her tightly as she cried hysterically.

A leftward glance revealed Imoen sleeping soundly in her bed roll, all but her defining curls hidden under the covers. Lilliana smiled at the sight, shaking off the weird dream. There hadn't seemed to be anything prolific about it and doubtless it was just another arachnid-centered nightmare (Lathander knew she'd had her fair share of those over the years) . . .only that time her sleeping mind had decided she wasn't going to be the victim.

Already the words of the disembodied voice were fading from her mind as she pulled her legs up out of the confines of the bedding around them. She needed a drink. A hand shot out in the dark to find her water canteen . . .empty. _Damn! _Imoen had a canteen but in the darkness, infravision or not, Lilliana would be hard pressed to find it. Though Lilliana slept with her long hair in a braid a few strands had worked themselves loose in her sleep. She tucked them behind one point-tipped ear as she rose up on her feet, the 'roof' of the tent well over her head. Kivan had a canteen on him and he had volunteered for the watch that night. No one really thought it was necessary except Jaheira, who _always_ insisted that someone be on watch unless they were behind the locked doors of an inn, but the wood elf apparently still needed time alone to sort out whatever turbulent thoughts had been plaguing him.

Cicadas were singing in the tall grass around the faire grounds. Lilliana thought it a bit soon for them and certainly hoped autumn wasn't going come too early that year. She wasn't a big fan of winter and while she enjoyed the cool climate of the autumn season it meant that the cold weather was soon to follow. The ground had dried from the rains but held the dew of the night and the cold moisture made Lilliana draw in a quick gasp as she padded quietly outside the tent, her bare feet against the dirt. Looking around she quickly spotted Kivan sitting on a purposely placed log that the cleric had been resting on earlier that evening.

"Not much happening huh?" She asked pleasantly, a friendly smile on her still-sleepy face as she neared the ranger. There was no response and she figured he was deep in meditations again. When she was close enough she reached out one hand to shake his shoulder gently. "Kivan." Again there was no answer and Lilliana furrowed her brow. It must have been a _very_ deep meditation. "Kivan? Alright, I'll just get your canteen myself."

The cleric leaned down to where the wood elf's pack was to do just that but was stopped short by the sound of . . . silence. The cicadas had ceased their chittering and the lack of noise was eerie. A faint wind tickled against Lilliana's skin but that was it. "H-Hello?" Surely the question was foolish but she couldn't help but feel like someone was watching her and the ranger from the shadows around the camp, deep as they were since cloud cover prevented much moonlight from breaking through.

Kivan's form suddenly slumped over, falling from the log and Lilliana almost screamed in shock. "Kivan?! What is . . ." She had put her hands on the elf's shoulders to raise him up so she could see his face, though already from his slack posture she knew he was likely unconscious. A voice, chilling in it's calm happiness, spoke from behind her and Lilliana froze.

"He doesn't have anything to do with us Angel, not anymore, but we will bring him along so he will know . . . you belong to _me_."

A shadowed form, tall and imposing was right in front of Lilliana when she jerked about. A scream started from her mouth, calling for her guardians. "Kha . . .!" She managed to get out before the tall blackly cloaked man ran at her and grabbed her tightly; a cloth soaked in reeking liquid pressed against her face. Fighting against the man was practically useless, he felt as if his arms were a vice about her slight frame, and in the end she only succeeded in breathing more of the foul substance into her lungs. She was gagging against the taste; burning on her tongue and sending fire down her throat. The small group of tents was beginning to blur in the half high-elf's vision and her violent attempts at jerking out of the assailants grasp grew weaker. For some reason the man removed the soaked cloth but it didn't matter by that time, the air feeling full of liquid as Lilliana fell to the ground limply. Green eyes fluttered up at Kivan's face, now hanging above her as his comatose body was still slumped against the log, and she tried his name but couldn't speak.

The world went black . . .


	11. Chapter Ten: Kiss Before Dying

**Disclaimer:** _"Forgotten Realms: Baldur's Gate" belongs to Bioware, TSR, and Black Isle Studios. Lilliana is mine and situations that you don't recognize from the game are mine, all other material and inspiration for my material is under copyright by the above named. Additional Forgotten Realms material included in this story but not in the game belongs to Wizards of the Coast._

_The items and practices of 'Exorcism' that are contained within are based on some factual Roman Catholic information on how they used to be performed in the 1600's as well as my own blend of entirely fabricated Realms Lore. Credit goes to Jane Bromway, my Medieval and Rennaisance History professor, who helped greatly with that. _

**Words From The Author: **_Thank you for being so patient. I promise that this chapter won't disappoint, though I should warn you that the content in 'Kiss Before Dying' is very dark, and will no doubt promote some angst. I've had some comments on certain characters being OOC when showing weakness or characteristics not normally seen. There is a scene at the end between Lilliana and another character in which the other character is friendlier than normal. I fully feel that my characters have hidden traits, that aren't out of character, they are just the sides of them we don't see that much. The last scene is another of those instances. Also there is some situations that will not have come full circle yet in this chapter. Those will be covered next chapter, so if anyone thinks I've left crucial scenes out, I promise you that they are in chapter eleven. I simply wanted chapter ten to end on a bittersweet note. If there are any questions or concerns or even typos that you'd like to point out, than again feel free. I still accept all comments. :) I feel this is one my best chapters to date, so I certainly hope you enjoy it and we FINALLY get to 'see' Lathander, so that's nice I think._

_This chapter was beta-read and edited by my wonderful beta, Scott, and I was assited by my professor, Jane Bromway, so I am dedicating it to them. As well as you the readers that have stuck it out with me._

_As always thank you, dear readers, for joining Lilliana on her journey!_

**

* * *

**

_**Chapter Ten:**_

_**Kiss Before Dying **_

* * *

_Every smile you fake,_

_Every claim you stake,_

_Every move you make,_

_With every step you take _…

_I'll be watching you._

_Oh, can't you see?  
You belong to me. _

_The Police_

_

* * *

_

_**"O**__h sweet lady of Luskan, Oh sweet lady of mine, I have found you again sweet lady, oh sweet lady of Luskan so fine.'_ One of the tunes of the older fishermen of the far northern city of Luskan played inside Aladres Chevres' head, thoughts of his childhood, the days before he was known as Nimbul, following soon after. His dark eyes looked down at the two prostrate bodies he carried; one in his arms, the other being dragged behind him with ropes. _If only his parents could see him now._ The child they thought had 'problems,' the 'disturbed' boy that his mother and father had wanted to send away so he could get 'help'. Nimbul's true self had been born the night they died, the night that he'd shown them how special he was. Lips pulled up in a fiendish smile but Nimbul was almost sad that his long deceased parents couldn't see his lady. She was a well made match for him but it would not have always been so.

Aladres had been a rail thin lad all his younger life, a mussed mop of dark curls hanging over his brow in such a way as to nearly conceal half his face. He'd been born with blue eyes but not even a month after his birth they'd turned a near black shade of brown, flecked with charcoal gray. It had given him a look that young humans of his age didn't like much. The jibes of the children that had alienated him were all but gone from memory, forced out most likely, but he could remember with staggering lucidity what they'd called him. Little Black Bird. He'd been able to feel their scorn even then, though he hadn't realized the extent of his natural born empathy, and something else that tickled his boyish senses like a healthy swig of Firewine … _fear_. To strike such emotion in others by doing none other than looking at them was power and it was something that few men, let alone children, could merit to themselves. When he'd taken on the moniker of 'Nimbul' using what came to him naturally to earn a living, and remove the ability for others to do the same, he had fashioned himself to bring even greater fear to others. Still thin but now quite tall, hair dyed completely black and cut short with sharp bangs to either side of onyx hawk eyes he made an impressive and alarming figure.

Lilliana possessed something similar, and even more intriguing was that _her_ power lay _inside_, hardly noticeable by those of a less talented nature than the assassin. She was burying it in the deepest fathoms of her soul without even being aware of it, but he could see traces of it the few times he'd been able to get a close look at her face. She would never be physically very frightening, at least not in the same way Nimbul was, but she had an as-yet-intangible air of foreboding around her. The features the girl had now were unremarkable, with the exception of her too-bright eyes, and would hardly strike much of anything in others; not lust, not awe and not fear either … but that would change. Nimbul could see the dark beauty she'd have when she reached full physical maturity, held now at a slower rate because of her half elven genealogy. Dark beauty on a pale face, like sharp black rocks hidden underneath a blanket of fresh snow … and when the snow melted … _Snakes living in her eyes and demons roosting in her blood. _The assassin smiled at those thoughts.

A younger Aladres Chevres would not have had the capacity to notice something that was so far under the surface, but adult Nimbul had honed his abilities to a fine art. Her soul had a near blinding light, brilliantly white as it was now and the assassin was sure that had something to do with the unspoiled maidenhood she still had. He had no intentions of soiling his lady and taking that away from her, she was far too precious to him for such base actions. It would almost be worth it to let her continue to age, but the latent power she had Nimbul needed, he wanted it and by removing her light and absorbing it into his own soul he could spare her. He would save her from a life of disappointment; from the ridicule she would suffer from those that couldn't understand her true-self that lived inside waiting to break free.

It was too dark to see her properly and so Nimbul looked at her with his second sight, the gift of an empath. The half high-elf girl radiated an awe-inspiring aura, something the assassin had only seen from a very few people … oddly enough Lilliana's little adopted sister seemed to have that same light. As he had watched the companions move about at the faire that night he'd considered taking the red headed human girl as well, curious as to what link the girls really shared, but in the end he didn't. Fate had led him to Lilliana, she was meant to be his and he wouldn't falter from that path. A look of disdain crossed his face and he half turned to glance down his nose at the wood elf he dragged behind him, the rope used to haul the ranger wrapped tightly around Nimbul's fist. An application of a 'feather potion' over the elf's body had allowed him to be hauled away without difficulty but the potion didn't last forever and Nimbul, strong as he was, could feel the dual weight of the elf and his lady. _Not far now._ The tall human reminded himself, knowing by memory where he was heading without needing to see.

An old tomb had been built long ago in the hills around Nashkel and Nimbul had found it quite a few years back. No one had used it for decades and it was a near-perfect location to make a small base for himself; a place that he could plan new strategies and get rest without worry of being found. He'd set it up for Lilliana and the assassin felt almost giddy thinking about her reaction when she saw the extent of his devotion to her.

Finally, they had reached his lair and Nimbul had to set the girl down for a moment, gently cradling her head as he laid her beside the door. It couldn't be opened by just anyone, the assassin having set up many traps around the place. The only downside to that was that he had to spend some time dismantling them before he could go in. A few minutes of his tinkering, helped by remembering every single trap he'd lain out, and he pushed the ancient stone doors open with a grunt and a shove.

"Home, sweet home." He smiled and picked Lilliana up again, grabbing the end of the rope that had been tied around Kivan, and moved inside. The stone doors were shut behind him, cutting off the scant light of dawn as a thin line of pale blue had begun at the horizon.

* * *

Some kind of birds were chirping outside the tent, calling out to the world that it was morning. Ajantis groaned and rolled over, covering his head with a lumpy pillow. A few more moments of tossing and turning and he gave in, sitting groggily up in bed as his eyes focused. He yawned wide and ran a hand through his mussed hair.

_Where in the Hells was Kivan?_ The wood elf was supposed to come get Ajantis to finish the watch that he'd started so Kivan could get some rest for himself. If it was morning already then he must have stayed out there all night and past dawn. _Damn stubborn fetcher!_ No doubt he was making himself suffer over something that the knight thought was a very natural reaction to coming face to face with the murderer of one's wife… well one of them at least. Though in Ajantis' case he knew that, had it been him, he would be held to a much stricter code of honor bound actions, those set down upon him by the Order. The wood elf ranger wasn't held by such restrictions and try as he might Ajantis couldn't fault him for his rage and thirst for revenge. The feelings that would come from retribution, however, would likely not bring the peace that most would seek after such a thing.

There was some faint stubble growing on Ajantis' chin and he scratched at it as he rose from the bedroll. "Why does morning have to always come so early?" He asked the tent and surprisingly there was an answer.

"Morning comes at the same time every day, you humans simply choose to deny yourself the sleep you need and then complain as if it is the fault of Abeir-Toril itself." The snooty voice of Xan responded from where the prince himself stood, already dressed for the day. He was wearing a replica of the fancy robes he had last evening, only these were in a sky-blue color.

_Does he always dress like he's ready for a parade or is he just trying to outdo everyone in the group?_ Ajantis wondered sourly. "Yes, you are right your highness, us humans are wont to complain on a daily basis. For instance I could complain about the rotten company that I find myself sharing a tent with." Ajantis quipped back, digging through his sack for a fresh shirt. There was success in the form of a long off-white linen tunic and the broad shouldered human pulled it over his naked torso in agitated tugs.

_He dresses like a pig, rutting around through his things!_ The high elf prince thought unkindly. "If anyone should have problems with their sleeping arrangements it would be I. Not even a single room at the inn available and then I'm forced into spending -"

"Oh for Helm's sake, let's just try to get along. I'm too tired to argue with you." Ajantis sighed wearily as if making his point, standing now to reach for his armored bracers.

"Fine with me, human." The snotty retort came at Ajantis' back and by the time the knight had turned about the high elf had left the tent.

"_Lousy pampered dandy!_" Ajantis hissed under his breath.

"I heard that!" Came Xan's words from outside the tent and Ajantis shook his head.

It was going to be a long day, he could feel it. They were to head for Beregost this morning to find the man named 'Tranzig' that had been mentioned in the late Mulahey's letters. Ajantis enjoyed free time as much as anyone but he had to admit that he was anxious to be on the move again and truth be told he was becoming quite intrigued with the whole of the puzzle. Soon there would be another piece fit into place and the knight smiled to himself at that. Perhaps not all the company was to his taste, he thought as he glanced to the tent flap Xan had recently exited from, but the goal seemed a merry little chase. The tall blonde put on the last bits of his clothing, cloak draped over one muscled arm as he went outside.

Sitting around a campfire with the fragrance of cooking soup were the Harpers, the Rashemites and Imoen. The red headed girl looked up when Xan walked near and waved. He waved back but didn't return the smile she was giving him. "Gooood morning sunshine!" She rolled off her tongue, grinning brightly.

"Yes, well there is plenty of _that_ isn't there? The weather here is horrible! It's either too wet, or too dry, too cold or too hot, too overcast or too sunny." The mage grumbled, his reprimand on how _humans_ complained too much already forgotten, as he took a seat, waving Imoen away when she went to pour him a bowl of soup. "No thank you. Where is your sister anyway?" His silver eyes took in all the members present, glowering at Ajantis as the man took a place around the campfire. "A Lathanite is usually up at dawn I'm told."

"Why so curious, mageling? Thou hast hardly much feeling for _any_ within this company." Dynaheir nodded her head in Xan's direction, eyeing him over the rim of her bowl as she took a dainty mouthful.

Pale as he was when the high elf's cheeks reddened even slightly it was very noticeable. He snapped at the Wychlaran in his embarrassment a being called out for anything. "Do not deem yourself the allowance of calling _me_ a 'mageling' when _you _are but an infant to the craft. It's highly insulting to compare your scant parlor tricks with the talents of high elven magic!" Xan flustered but didn't dare speak any more with Minsc guarding over the woman and eyeing the Greycloak with distrust.

Ajantis had listened to the short verbal outburst and was ready to intercede when Jaheira interrupted and thereby ended any further disagreement. "Enough of this. I, too, find it strange that Lilliana isn't here at camp, she normally is up before the rest of us … perhaps she went off to join Kivan. I've noticed that he didn't come to get you did he Ajantis?"

The knight shook his head. "No he did not. They have been spending some time together talking recently … maybe too much time." There was a faint scowl on the human's face and Imoen took the opportunity to goad him.

"What's the matter? Jealous? I mean she used ta' spend a lot of time with _you_ but when ya dumped her off so you could have more moments ta' flirt with Dynaheir … well she had to find someone _else_ to bond with … sides' me of course." Imoen was trying to find things she liked about Dynaheir, not only because of what Lilliana had said but also because the red head was interested in magic and the Wychlaran seemed like one who could make a good tutor … but it was hard getting over things. The crush she had on Ajantis, _used _to have she amended, not helping matters much but then he had stopped talking with the sisters and spent more and more of whatever free time he had with _her_. Imoen glared at Dynaheir who seemed oblivious as she watched Ajantis, perhaps worried that he _was_ jealous. _'Good, let her be worried!' _The thief smiled bitterly and returned the dark look that the knight was sending her way now.

"No I'm not 'jealous' Imoen, you should know better than to think that. I'm simply saying that Kivan has been fairly despondent, even more so than usual, and I'd hate to see him pulling Lilliana's good mood down with him." He glared at the girl once more for good measure before returning his attention to his soup.

Dynaheir looked at the man that she was slowing developing a growing affection for. She wasn't entirely sure that it wasn't some kind of jealousy but of _what_ kind she couldn't be sure. The Wychlaran cleared her throat. "Perhaps we should go look for both of them. If only to remind them that breakfast is ready and we will soon be making haste for this 'Beregost'."

"Likely they were stolen away in the night and are now lying in a pool of their own blood." Xan remarked coldly, earning a gasp of shock from Imoen who stood so fast she dropped her bowl of soup to send the liquid inside splattering at her feet.

"That's not funny!" Spring green eyes were shooting angry sparks but Xan only looked up at the red head as he shrugged his shoulders.

"It was not a joke." The high elf knew it was better to expect and prepare for the worst, since bad things happened more often than good things. This 'have hope' mentality that he felt smothered by within the group was grating on his nerves.

Wheels turned within Imoen's pretty head and her eyes widened as she must have come to some conclusion. "I'm gonna get dressed in my gear and go look for 'em!"

"We will _all_ g-get dressed and g-go look. W-with D-Dynaheir and Xan w-we have a b-better chance. You b-both can c-command a 'wizard eye' c-can't you?" Khalid raked a hand through his hair, feeling very uneasy already and the cynical words of the prince did little to calm his nerves.

"Oh yes, the wise Dynaheir knows many magicks and Minsc and Boo are rangers." The tattooed berserker proudly put a hand to his chest. Dynaheir smiled at him kindly and nodded.

"Minsc has had some training in the ways of the forest, that is true and I am well schooled in all the 'arts de magicka.' We will find thou friends, surely." The beautiful Wychlaran added, smiling tightly as she glanced Xan's way. "With or without the help of the gloomy one."

"They are likely just talking on a knoll somewhere, there are plenty of them around here and Kivan seems to favor those hilly spots, but time hasn't stopped and the sooner we head out the better. We should make an attempt to reach Beregost before midnight sets upon us once everyone has been collected." Harking tones from the group's resident druid ceased any bickering that might have been. Even Xan seemed to fall into a harmonious pace though he continued to glance at everyone else as though he was looking down his nose at them.

"If my sis _is _with Kivan then I'm gonna tell her straight! Both of 'em, actually! Stayin' out so long and makin' us worry!" The red head sincerely hoped that's all it was.

Minsc put a large and comforting hand on the girl's shoulder. "Miss Lily and Mister Kivan will be okay. Boo says to stay positive."

Imoen smiled up at the man, glad for more than the first time of his presence. "Thanks Minsc, yur a good pal."

* * *

There was a voice, faint and gentle … humming something akin to a lullaby. Lilliana tried to force her eyes open but they were heavy and refusing any command of movement. She tried again and was met with an enveloping blackness interspersed with odd jagged streaks of dark orange … firelight. A constriction lay in her throat, the skin lining it still burning from whatever her attacker had knocked her out with. The half high-elf wanted to call out Kivan's name, a comfort in such a frightening uncertainty of her personal safety and that of her companions. Instead, she could only gag, the cloying scent and odor of decay thick in the air. There was something across her eyes, dry and with the feel of leaves or flowers. The sweetly spicy odor mingled with the smell of rot but she could recognize it; clean and fragrant lavender. The same flora that was ground and used in the body powders that she favored. Unsure hands reached up to her face and lifted the sprig away, emerald eyes looking up at a granite ceiling that hung near to the ground and uneven.

"Ki …." Her lungs managed before she choked on the bitterness of the wicked fumes she'd been forced to breathe in, the still lingering stench of putrefied tissue filling her nostrils and generating a wave of nausea. Bile came up from her empty stomach and filled her mouth causing an immediate choking. Lilliana quickly turned her head to the side, her body lethargic and her head feeling fuzzy as if long un-used. Spitting out the stomach acid she forced her eyes to focus … and tried to scream in horrified revulsion at what she saw.

A half rotten face had been turned so pupil-less long dead eyes were staring at her, not much left of the soft tissue within the sockets themselves … _a corpse_. Arms that felt like so much wet paper finally managed to support the weight of Lilliana's body, albeit sparingly, and she shoved herself away from the dead woman. The cleric's hands felt something soft and cold underneath her palms and she turned her neck to find yet another corpse behind her. Part of her hand had begun to sink through the rotting bare chest of what had once been a man. When she tried to scream that time there was success, her disgust overrode her discomfort and her terror-filled shrieks resounded throughout the dim space. Panicked she looked around with jarring movement, crying low appalled sobs to find a circle of dead bodies around where her own form had been laying; a perfectly lain sphere of those in a range of decomposition.

There could have been a dozen or no more than five for all Lilliana knew, counting them was the last thing she'd want to do. Scrambling away would only make her bump into another corpse. She brought a hand up to cover her mouth and nearly vomited when she realized it was the one that had touched the dead man.

"Lathan … h-hel …." Her tongue refused to carry out the words she wanted, slurring over them as if a clod of dirt had been stuffed in her mouth. Speaking within her mind wasn't of much use either. Any conjuration she tried wouldn't come and she bemoaned how it was the third time she'd encountered someone who had possession of such resources - that which prevented any clerical or magical conjuring. Her legs were so numb that she imagined if someone had stabbed them she wouldn't feel it … the only means to get away from the corpses was to crawl over one of them.

Half gagging and half crying, Lilliana pulled herself over the nearest body, avoiding direct skin-to-skin contact where she could. The clothes over the corpse felt like rotting silk and the half high elf felt her hands sliding against the fabric and pushing against the flesh beneath. She moaned as her palms smacked against the dirty rough floor. Sitting against the cold stone she had to grab her legs with her arms and yank them off the corpse.

Just a short distance of movement and Lilliana was very nearly out of breath though she dared not take in a mouthful of air, afraid of tasting something rancid enter her lungs. It was a good thing she was slight of frame, for even the light weight of her small body felt like a ton when she had to pull herself with her arms. They had begun to ache and it was as if she were screaming for air, the flavor of copper rising up from her chest.

Flickering orange firelight was coming from the next chamber and it highlighted the edges of a long row of stone coffins. _A tomb, I'm in a tomb?!_ It was an obviously old sepulcher, disrepair evident everywhere but someone had taken up some kind of residence in it. From her place on the ground, the ring of bodies blissfully out of sight behind her, she cautiously took stock of the situation. Whoever had attacked at the camp had spoken as if he knew her, and the voice had been decidedly male. When she'd first come to there was humming but now Lilliana wasn't entirely certain if that had been her imagination or not … but it had sounded like _him_. A sprig of lavender had been set across her closed eyes and her prone body had been lain in the middle of a circle of corpses … _but why? Who would do such things?_

Slowly the cleric's mind was coming out of a fog, but she was still having trouble getting any fully formed words out and her body continued to feel like a dead weight. _Clothes … he'd changed her clothes_. Leaning up on her elbows Lilliana felt the thin white silk of the material that lay against her cold, clammy skin. It was a sleeveless gown, the ruffled edges hanging across her shoulders, and yet one more oddity in this whole mess. As she remembered from her brief stay at the bandit camp there was once again the reaction of disgust that a stranger had taken off her clothing to replace it with what he wanted her wearing.

"_Lilliana …." _

_A voice!_ She listened again but heard nothing. Forcing her tired arms to pull her forward once more she began a slow drag into the lit chamber, eyes darting about everywhere. It wasn't the same voice of the man that had attacked her, but it didn't sound right if it had been Kivan either. To call out Kivan's name would probably be foolish … her kidnapper would know she was conscious … but then again he probably knew that already from her screaming earlier.

"My darling! You're awake and you've crawled _quite_ a distance. You really should not have troubled yourself. I would have come to pick you up. Did you like them?"

A tall figure blocked out the light in front of Lilliana, his voice calm and gentle. It made her sick that a man that could do such things would speak so normally. "Li-ike?" The cleric managed, her voice a scant remnant of what it should have been. It came out more like a squeak and she tried to move away, fear locking up her limbs instead. She recognized him! It was the man … Aladres … from Beregost … the man she had danced with and of whom she had thought was intoxicated.

"Why yes, the tapestry I made for you to see when you awoke. You _must_ have seen them, in fact you had to have _touched_ them in order to get away … I made sure you couldn't walk. That wouldn't be helpful at all now would it?" He bent down to pick her up, finding her feeble attempts at breaking free to be hardly of notice. "Not to mention your gown, so soft and fine. Made entirely of refined phase spider silk … I thought one afflicted with arachnophobia would rather appreciate the irony of it."

Phase spiders were a cousin of giant spiders, their natural ability to teleport themselves from spot to spot also creating a webbing that mages found quite useful. Nimbul smiled down at his lady, soaking in her horror at contemplating his words. Her sorrow, fear and confusion were like a sweet song that was being sung across his soul.

Her name was moaned out again and she looked around her captor to where Kivan had been strung up against the wall. Nails had been hammered through his palms to leave his body hanging in such a way that only the nails embedded in the stone wall behind him were keeping him up, his feet left to dangle so they were barely touching the floor. 'Ki … Kivan!" Lilliana screamed out, choking over the last letters of his name. He must have fallen unconscious some time ago and as he awoke was even more groggy than the cleric had been. Her heart clenched at seeing him suffering so and being unable to do anything to stop it.

"Oh yes, I almost forgot about him. Your affection for the elf is unacceptable and he has done little to deter you. Taking comfort in your voice when you spoke, feeling 'almost' at peace when you brought him dancing with you. Your sorrow is lovely and sweet but his sorrow is dark and piercing, not entirely unpleasant and it is an enjoyable test to watch him agonizing over his failure. He failed to save the woman he loved. Now he has failed to save _you_. Such self-aimed vitriol! Delightful!"

Nimbul spoke as a child might when given several presents, the smile on his face matched such emotion as he carried Lilliana's limp body over to a particularly long masonry cover. When he laid her down she tried to get up but her legs still wouldn't move no matter how hard she willed them to. _'Lathander help me, help me, help me, help me, help me ….' _The answer she sought wasn't forthcoming but she didn't cease trying. This man intended to kill Kivan, of that Lilliana had no doubt and she was fairly certain that the same fate lay in store for _her_. She couldn't let that happen … she _wouldn't._ As Nimbul continued to speak, Lilliana concentrated on calling for her god within her mind.

"I wanted to wait until you were awake before I took his life. You need to see it, and I need to feel your pain. You have no idea how intoxicating you are to me … I love you so my darling." The assassin gave his speech in reverence and it seemed to catch his captive's attention.

"Love?" His admission caught her off guard. He loved her? How could he say that and then do such things?!

"Yes … love. I have finally fallen under its embrace. So long I've watched you, waited until you began to blossom. You won't stay this way forever … soon, your innocence will begin to fade, your _soul_ will fade. I could not love you and let that happen. The world would ridicule you or seek to use for their own ends but you are far too special for that. The corpses I left for you, those people would have killed you had I not stopped them. For they couldn't see what you are, how precious a gem they would have crushed and for what? Coins in their pocket! No my lovely Lilliana, you belong to _me_. It is your fate that I take your life my love so that you will die before your soul begins to rot, while you are fresh and unspoiled." He went to her and gently touched her face, closing his eyes as if in ecstasy. "Your skin is so soft and white … I shall cherish painting it with your blood. Do not be concerned, my darling because your soul will be absorbed into my own; you will continue to exist within me."

Lilliana turned her face away from his touch, utterly terrified out of her mind and repulsed. _He was completely psychotic! _"N-no! NO!" She cried out as Nimbul turned away from her and picked up a knife from a small cabinet of them he had placed against one wall. She tried to move away, fidgeting, but the brief bout of strength that had brought her into the room proper had left. When the first prick came against the exposed flesh of her neck she screamed, the sharp blade biting into the tightened sinew beneath her skin but was held in such away as to not be deadly. Air touched the new gash and stung like fire. "S-st …." Out of breath she ceased speaking, looking up at the man imploringly.

He had tuned her out completely, pressing the blade up over her chin and across her lower lip. The skin around her mouth split open easily as the sharp dagger was drawn across it. A heavy taste of copper ran into Lilliana's open orifice and across her tongue, giving flavor to her shrill cries. "Ahhh! P-Ple … Ple … Stop!" Rivulets of tears ran down her face and mixed with a small stream of fresh blood that was now trickling over the right side of the cleric's jaw.

"You are right, I should wait until the worthless ranger has been taken care of … but I couldn't help myself, I had to have just one taste." Nimbul drew a finger across the small cut and brought it to his lips, tasting the crimson fluid on his tongue.

He moved closer to Kivan, who was unable to do more than moan and make a few attempts to say Lilliana's name. "Ge-get aw … Get away fr …." The cleric was forcing the words over her tongue, and she made another attempt at movement. There was small success in her arms and the wobbly limbs shook with incredible exertion as their owner tried to use them as ballast. A hard enough shove and Lilliana rolled off the coffin top, falling against the floor hard and drawing Nimbul's attention once again.

"More persistent than I had thought. Are you so willing to keep yourself as the focus of any violence to save a friend? Seconds ago you were begging me to leave you be. Curious and somehow disappointing." The tall assassin leaned down to where she was slumped against the stone side of the coffin. He tisked his tongue in a reprimanding fashion, sighing in feigned agitation; a look of enjoyment shining in the depths of his dark eyes that attested to how much fun he was having. "You are making this far more difficult than I had anticipated Lilliana." Intending on placing her back atop the slab he reached out with both arms and hoisted her up over his shoulder.

Though the half high-elf's legs were still tingling with numbness she found that she could move them a little now and used that capability to kick at Nimbul but it was as ineffectual as calling for any conjuration had been. From her place she had her face pressed against the man's shoulder. Swallowing and forcing a bravery she didn't quite feel the young cleric opened her mouth and bit the assassin's back through his shirt as fiercely as she could muster. The tall man howled with the sound of one that hadn't expected any kind of pain and dropped his victim to the ground.

Laying there slumped she screamed and slapped at Nimbul as he grabbed her roughly, carrying her in his arms and wrapping one arm around her to clamp her mouth shut harshly. "There will be no more of that, lest I am forced to give you another dose of my formula."

"Lilliana? Who … where are …" Kivan's groggy voice was starting to sound partially lucid and Nimbul looked the elf's way once he had set Lilliana down once again. "Le … leave her …." It would seem that the ranger was having as much difficulty forming full words as the cleric had. Though he didn't need to shout to make clear the rage he was directing at Nimbul; the empath could feel it full force.

"Don't worry about her, I will take care of her. As for you … it's time that we silence all those angry thoughts." The assassin left Lilliana again and strode with purpose toward his new target as the wood elf glared at him through hazy eyes. "Your eyes … are they green or brown? I really cannot tell."

A gleam from the sharpened end of the dagger reflected in Kivan's left pupil, that dilated as the blade drew closer. He tried to hold in the sounds of his pain as his tormenter pressed the sharp metal against his tear duct but human eyes were sensitive enough and elven eyes even more so. Lilliana needed him and he couldn't be weak … _but by the Seldarine it hurt! _When the blade was pressed into the recess between his duct and his eyeball he could no longer hold in the screams that resonated from deep within his chest. Such sounds only seemed to entice his captor and the torture continued.

She could hear Kivan screaming in agony and her own cries were equally as loud. The words she wanted to say were still disjointed, sobbing doing nothing to improve the lucidity of her mind or body and it made her angry … furious … _enraged_! There came the throbbing of her blood in her brain, temples beating a tempo to match her temper. Something broke inside her and, like a flood, her rage became nearly material, tearing through any barriers Nimbul's meddling had caused. A scream came up her throat filled with all her sorrow, all her pain and all her hatred of this man that would hurt her friend, that would so perversely hold them hostage. Glass bottles that the assassin had held his potions in shattered as the unearthly noise rose to a painful pitch and Nimbul himself was sent reeling back, hands pressed to bleeding ears and the instrument of his tortures left to clatter against the floor. He turned to look at her, confused, and was met with burning eyes.

'_He dares to think he is worthy to have your power! He is nothing Lilliana. Make him pay for what he has done! We must kill him! We must kill him now! Lathander will not answer you within this tomb; the human enchanted it. Accept me within your soul, accept me and I will help you! Do it!'_ The voice from her dreams came, presenting help and a chance to no longer be a victim and in her frenzied state Lilliana accepted what it was so freely offering. _'Kill him now! Kill him Lilliana! Kill him! Kill him! KILL HIM! KILL HIM NOW! ' _

She smiled, a dark calm evening out her ragged breathing and she stood from the coffin before Nimbul could move forward, hands out before her as if readying a conjuration. "Yes." The cleric said to an unanswered question.

"How did you stand? You should have …." Nimbul began only to find his body flung against a far wall hard enough to crack his skull. The hairline thin fracture began to bleed profusely and the assassin was amazed that he was still alive after such force. Unable to rise to his feet properly he fell back against the wall, feeling a macabre amazement at a situation the sociopath had never experienced. Lilliana was glowing with black light, impossibly dark and bright and the same time. "Magnificent." He whispered as she came closer, a feral grin on her pale face and once green orbs shining hotly as if flames were licking greedily within her irises.

"I _am _rather magnificent, and _you_ are soon to be _nothing_." Her voice was disjointed; the faint sounds of a deep growling voice joining with Lilliana's own to create a sound like the jumbled speech of one possessed. She raised a wrist in the air that brought the knives Nimbul had in the cabinet to circle around the cleric's frame like a shield of blades. They swirled around the half high-elf in a ring before another flick of the wrist sent them careening forward and into their owner.

Always the assassin had kept all his weapons deadly sharp and Nimbul felt every piercing stab … his chest, his arms, his legs, his stomach. She had left his face free as the assassin found himself pinned against the wall by his own blades. Each one had been sent forward hard enough to embed them in the wall after they had passed through his clothes, flesh and sinew. A slow trickle of blood bubbled out between the empath's smiling lips, a dagger through his throat making it difficult to speak. "My … dar … gl … lhh … ing." He gurgled out as she drew closer, the look of malice prevalent on her features.

She leaned close to him, Nimbul's leaking life fluids staining the front of her white gown as her body pressed in on his and pushed the blades that had impaled him. Both hands were raised and Lilliana placed them against his face in a gentle caress. "You are so fascinated with death aren't you? The sweet song of fear before the release of life?" The cleric smiled at her dying abductor as if they were old lovers and brought her mouth to his, kissing him deeply.

Kivan's already blurred vision was made even more so by the flow of blood that spilled around and over his eyes. Sharp intense pain emanated from both tortured orbs, his hands beginning to tear, giving way to the nails that held them there as the wood elf struggled. Her heard speaking over the internal pounding of his head and made out _three _voices. Someone else was in that place, someone whose intonation emanated raw evil, speaking as if in an echo to words that had to be Lilliana's … but something was wrong. She sounded like she was enjoying herself and Kivan could almost hear a sickening glee in her words. The ranger couldn't make out all the words, his brain filled with his own pain as he struggled to free himself, feeling every ounce of agony as his palms were being ripped open by the weight of his writhing body.

Feeling her lips against his own was both pleasurable and confusing at the same time. The pain Nimbul felt only increased his appreciation of her taste and slowly he became aware of something else. It was if she was trying to draw the air out of his lungs and for the first time in Nimbul's dark existence he was frightened. Pinned against the wall, his blood escaping out of several opened wounds, he could do nothing as the suction increased and an agony unlike any he had ever experienced took over his body. He screamed against Lilliana's mouth as her teeth bit through his lips, warm blood spilling out and over the cleric's own teeth as she literally sucked the life out of him.

The entity felt the man struggling helplessly from the onslaught of having its soul ripped from its body. Finally, it was done, the human's skin taking on a sagging appearance as the being drew away from it. Death and pleasure went nearly hand-in-hand for the entity and it closed eyes that had once been like emeralds, now black pools of ichor set ablaze with the fires of the Nine Hells, to enjoy the feeling. The flames within its irises were glowing against Nimbul's lifeless face. "I am death come for thee." The entity mimicked words that the assassin often used with a cruel laugh as it backed away from him. Both hands were turned in the air as if twisting the dials of some invisible device and the blades sunken through the assassin body were made to tear the corpse asunder. Whatever blood left in the man's body splattered against the cleric, the front of the white gown he'd put her in nearly completely crimson now. The entity smiled at its handiwork before turning to the wood elf that Nimbul had impaled against the wall.

"Well, well, well … what have we here?"

Kivan heard the words, but the voice sounded alien as soft and wet fingers grasped his jaw tightly. Blood swam across his eyes and he could see nothing. The pain that was shooting through his body made him oblivious to the crushing grip the hand had. He groaned, calling out Lilliana's name as concern for his companion fought a battle against his own suffering.

"Oh how _touching_. I have no such desire to hear _your_ voice though wood elf … no, and I do grow so tired of these longs talks 'we' have. They are drawing her away from herself, who she should be. Held back by such a pathetic regard for others … it makes me sick! Hmm … perhaps …." The voice that commanded the hand tightened it around Kivan's throat. "Just a little more pressure and no more long talks into the night … that _would_ be satisfying."

Her grip was crushing and Kivan could feel his already tortured body screaming for air. Through the drumming of his blood against his temples he thought he heard Lilliana crying again before the hand released him and the nails were pulled from his palms. As the wood elf fell against the floor he blacked out, all worry and thought gone as it was lost in the dark abyss of unconsciousness.

* * *

After a thorough examination of the tents in which Kivan and Lilliana had been sleeping the group discovered that almost all of their belongings were still there. Kivan's long sword was missing along with the clothes he had been wearing when he'd headed out for his watch the evening previous but that was it. Both of Lilliana's war hammers were still at the camp and all her clothing save the nightgown she'd worn to bed. It had made Imoen quite nervous no matter how many times she told herself there was likely nothing wrong. A heavy sense of foreboding was in her heart as the group had begun looking for their wayward companions.

"Boo says it is strange that Miss Lily would go talk with the quiet ranger in only her night clothes." Minsc had commented as they had left camp and Imoen agreed it was indeed very strange.

After what must have been at least four hours of searching the companions still hadn't come across the ranger or the cleric, and when their names had been called out they hadn't answered. Both Dynaheir and Xan had tried spells to find them, not just 'wizard eye', and yet they were unsuccessful. The pit in Imoen's stomach grew more uncomfortable.

"I must request that we stop looking for where Lilliana and Kivan might have gone to talk or where Kivan took his watch. They most certainly would not have come _this_ far out from camp. At this point it's fairly obvious that they have been abducted." Ajantis was using his great sword as a leaning post, a hand above his brow to keep away the too-bright sun.

"Or dead." Xan supplied, looking as if he was ready to lay down in the rolling hills and die himself.

"Abducted." Ajantis stressed again, glaring at the high elf.

The Harpers had stopped walking which seemed a signal for everyone else to do the same. Jaheira leaned down in the long grass, the tall blades reaching up to her waist-line while she squatted. She ran long fingers against the grass with her eyes closed before standing again. "The Oak Father doesn't believe any elf or half-elf blood was spilled in this area last evening or this morning."

Imoen was impressed. Jaheira could somehow understand the noises of certain animals, call upon the flora for aid and as it seemed could contact Silvanus himself by doing little more than touching grass. _Druids were really neat!_ She was taken from her thoughts by the bites of some chiggers that had gotten up past the line of her boots and through the thin material of her leggings. It was a shame though that Jaheira could only conjure insects and couldn't make them disappear.

"Ergo they were _abducted_, not _killed_." Ajantis smiled haughtily at Xan who only shot dagger eyes at his back when the knight addressed the druid. "What does that mean for us though? Can we try another spell or is there a way for you to find them with any of your druidic summons?"

"N-none of the s-spells Mistress Angolan or Prince M-Malian tried worked. I d-don't know what e-else…" Khalid started, nearly jumping out of his skin when Minsc shouted beside him.

"Minsc and Boo know! I was trained as a warrior in the talents of berserkers at my lodge but also in the ways of the forest. There is a way we have to follow a specific scent. Boo knows Miss Lily's scent, she held him yesterday for awhile."

"How ludicrous! Your _rodent_ is going to find Lilliana and Kivan by sniffing them out?!" With hands on both hips Xan looked up at Minsc while never losing his air of superiority. "You are an even bigger idiot than I first imagined!"

Dynaheir was affronted. "He is _not_ an idiot! I do not see _thou_ having any _better_ ideas!" Minsc may have been addled but he wasn't as bad as the haughty Greycloak would make him out to be and the Wychlaran wouldn't have her loyal and good-natured guardian insulted in such a crude manner.

"I have had just about all I'm going to take from you, witch!" Xan threatened, his hands moving about in such agitation that it almost appeared as if he was going to start casting combat spells at any moment.

"Fancy elf! Minsc won't let you harm my witch and Boo is smarter than you think." The massive Rashemite began to advance on Xan who took several steps back, his hands lowered.

"Stop it!" Jaheira screeched as all eyes focused on her and the anger boiling over in her violet eyes. She rubbed at the bridge of her nose, gathering her calm as she spoke again. "Fighting is getting us no farther than we were before. We might as well let Minsc try, at least until I can think of another way." It would keep Minsc calm, which taking his berserker nature into account was wise, and gave Jaheira time to keep in contact with the connection she held with nature. She could almost sense them but it was far off as if the druid were standing on the ground trying to see a person standing at the top of a very tall tower.

The bald giant grinned in childlike glee at the druid's momentary acceptance, ignoring all else as he took the tiny hamster from his pocket. The small rodent was left to go sniffing about the grass. Minsc looked on proudly while Boo went about his task.

* * *

The air felt humid and heavy and he seemed to be running a fever. Kivan remembered hearing a noise and going to investigate only to have a wet rag pressed against his face. There was no memory of fighting back, just the sensation of enveloping darkness and foul fumes. Everything ached, including his eyes, and there were brief flashes of something terrible. He had been inside a cave or tomb of some sort and could hear Lilliana screaming. Moving was impossible, his mind so hazy he barely had been able to discern the environment their attacker had brought them to. Trying to call out her name was all he could do, heart aching to know that yet again someone he cared about was being hurt and he couldn't get to them. Deheriana's beautiful face came into view and he nearly screamed her name but it had been _Lilliana_ that needed him.

Then their attacker was silenced, after speaking words that had no meaning to the ranger, and the presence of something blackly evil and murderous filled his elven senses. Laughter unlike anything he had ever heard resounded inside the structure he was in and then the poison that had entered his body removed all sensation and his consciousness once again left him.

Kivan was terrified to open his eyes now, the image of Deheriana's dead irises haunting him to the deepest reaches of his soul. It had happened for a second time and this instance it would be Lilliana dead beside him, their captor laughing cruelly above them thinking they had both been killed. _Wait! _Crying … he could hear her crying. "Lilliana …" The wood elf's voice was finally regaining some of its natural strength but his throat burned horribly. The blurriness of his vision had cleared enough that he saw her sitting in the shade of a large gnarled tree, her back to him and body shaking; looking as if she had taken a bath in a tub full of blood. She must have recognized her name for when he spoke it she turned about.

"Kivan … I …." The sobbing continued anew and once more her back was to him.

Warm sunlight was creeping around the edges of his feet and the day looked early yet. How long had they been with their attacker and how had they gotten free? _'I am death come for thee …'_ Seemed a phrase of some importance but Kivan's mind couldn't comprehend it … least wise nothing beyond the stark immorality of the speaker.

He groaned and tried to sit up, a wave of nauseating dizziness keeping him down. His hands hurt horribly and he slowly raised them to his face. Even with his sight not operating fully he could still see large dark red spots on the palms and the tops of both hands. _Nails. _A mental image of nails being driven through his hands came to him and he put them back down to the grass. _And my eyes! _A blade had begun to cut into the sockets of his eyes, and he recalled the intense agony. _By the Seldarine! What had happened?! _It was a wonder he wasn't blind. Some of the pain had also subsided. Even his hands didn't appear to be bleeding so Lilliana must have healed them … but how did she get away from their captor? She had to have been as drugged up as Kivan was … _unless_ … The wood elf purposely let his thoughts trail off, not wanting to contemplate what the fiend had done to the half high-elf while Kivan was incapable of stopping him.

"I … I … oh gods help me!" Lilliana wailed from beside him, and when he glanced her way she was looking at him. Her eyes bounced back and forth in her sockets, panicked and wild. "There is blood … I have so much blood on me. It's in my hair Kivan! I can't get it off! I have to get it off me! Oh gods I can taste it!"

He would have asked her more but she seemed in no condition to answer any inquiries. "Lilliana … please calm down." It was a request that he himself was having difficulty following. Memories of what had occurred were fragmented at best; he was still suffering from whatever he had been poisoned with and had no idea where they were or how much time had passed since he'd been at the camp. Who would have stolen Lilliana and himself away only to leave the others of their company behind?

"No! I don't know where he is … I can't remember but we have to get away! Quickly, before he finds us!" She tried to stand from where she was kneeling against the tree only to fall to her knees once again. Whispering came with frantic speed from between her thin lips and Kivan thought she must have been praying. "I can't stand! Oh, Lathander please help us!"

_'Before he finds us.'_ But who was 'he'? There were figures in the distance Kivan spied from the corner of his eye. The ranger forcibly pushed himself to a sitting position, fighting off the extreme vertigo he felt. "Lilliana, take care, I'm afraid we might be set upon."

"It's him! It's HIM!" The cleric shrieked, pulling at Kivan while she tried to walk away, finding her legs unwilling to support her full weight for long. The only form of movement she could muster was a disjointed part-walk, part-stumble and part crawl. "Hurry!"

"No, wait it's … Lilliana it is our companions! Minsc! Minsc over here!" Kivan cried, ignoring the itching of his throat when he tried to shout.

"NO! Don't call out! It's a trick … can't you see?! It's him, he's using an illusion, but it's him … he will kill us both!" Her eyes were wide as she finally released Kivan, scooting back from him and watching the approaching persons with horror.

Though all the companions moved forward rapidly when they spotted Lilliana and Kivan, Imoen was leading the pack; running at a ridiculous speed. She fell to her knees on the ground in front of her sister. "Oh Lil! Oh Lil what happened to you?!" The red head's expression was a mix of joy that her sister was alive and repulsion at the half high-elf's appearance … such a look of worry doubled when the young thief saw Kivan. "What … who did this?!"

Lilliana looked at her sister but saw only the madman that had taken them captive. Fear quickly turned into rage as the cleric launched herself at Imoen, screaming out her anger as her hands wrapped themselves around the red head's throat. "I won't let you hurt us anymore! I'll kill you! You bastard, do you hear me?! Do you?!"

For a few seconds the companions were too shocked to move, when finally Minsc strode forward, grabbing a hold of Lilliana's shoulders as he tried to yank her off her sister. A large and muscled berserker should have had no problem with such a task and yet it was if Lilliana's hands were welded to her sister's neck. "Miss Lily! Little Imoen is no evil person!" He tried, not sure why he couldn't pull the half-elf away. An elbow smashed backwards into his face and the Rashemite felt his nose break long before warm blood began to gush from it. Surprised and hurt the giant man staggered back as Dynaheir rushed to his side.

Khalid and Jaheira each grabbed one of Lilliana's arms as Ajantis kneeled on the grass behind Imoen's head, pulling at fingers that were choking the life out of the girl. The red head's face was going pale, her voice wavering under a crushing grip. "Lil … p-please!" Imoen coughed out.

"Get off me! Get off me or so help me you'll wish you'd never been born!" Lilliana's caterwauling had turned into a full out growl as she fought off the arms that tugged at her; that were trying to keep her from seeking justice out against her abductor. When Xan approached she couldn't recognize him, opening her mouth and hissing at him as if the cleric were little more than a wild animal.

"What are you doing?! I will not allow you to hurt Lilliana!" Ajantis yelled at the high elf while continuing in his efforts to pull at the cleric's fingers.

"Buffoon! If one of us doesn't do something she'll kill her sister." Xan countered and Ajantis knew he was right. The paladin nodded as the Greycloak put a hand to Lilliana's forehead. The spell knocked her out cold and she fell to the grass on her side.

Imoen rubbed at her neck, taking in large gasps of air between coughing. "What's _wrong_ with her?!" She felt poorly about being afraid of her best friend and sister but couldn't help it; moving backwards from the cleric's unconscious body. The red head wasn't entirely sure that all the blood that coated Lilliana's frame was Lilliana's own … and somehow that thought scared her the most. She remembered what her sister had told her that she'd done to the ghoul that had tried to attack the cleric and Gorion's corpse. More to the fact Imoen _saw_ what Lilliana had done. _The way she came after me like that …._

Lilliana's head was resting in Khalid's lap, the half gold-elf taking out a handkerchief from his pack and wiping the blood off her face. The girl's breathing was ragged and rapid, eyes moving under closed lids as if in the grip of a terrifying nightmare. "I d-don't know I-Imoen … b-but we w-will find out." Sunlight was breaking through the tree cover in patches and the Harper could almost swear that it was trying to touch Lilliana. Maybe Lathander would help … maybe He was the _only_ one that could. As a Harper his main concern should have been whether this was an effect of Lilliana's heritage, but as a friend of Gorion he knew that the girl's well being had to be first and foremost … and he also knew that he genuinely liked the cleric. Violet eyes found another pair of violet eyes and Jaheira answered her husband's unspoken inquiry with a grave nod.

"An infection of the wits perhaps. Kivan … never mind, I'm sorry, I shouldn't be asking you _anything_ in your present condition." Ajantis remarked, watching as Jaheira tended to the wood elf. He glanced to where Dynaheir was retrieving some spell components from her sack, perhaps as a slight pain killer for Minsc's broken nose until Jaheira could tend him.

"Would that I … would that I had answers to give you. I don't. We were in … a cave … a tomb? I cannot remember which. Whoever did this thing … had such a disturbing presence and yet I am not at all sure he was the only one there. At some point, I recall feeling another person there; could even hear them. They were mimicking Lilliana … I'm sure of that but … then they sounded as if they were gone and I was out here, partially healed. She must have gotten us out of wherever we were though I can't say how."

Khalid watched his wife working as she left the wood elf to call for a healing conjuration for the Rashemite warrior. He tore a piece off the edge of his tunic and dribbled water from his canteen on it. Wiping off Lilliana's face he could see that did indeed have a few injuries, though they appeared to be minor. Her throat had a shallow laceration across it and the girl's bottom lip looked to have been purposely sliced open. The Harper pressed his palm against Lilliana's forehead to find it hot and he gently brushed her blood soaked hair away from her face.

"Boo … Boo has found something … ack!" Minsc shouted, wincing at the end of his speech as a sharp twinge of pain came from his nose. "There!" The large man pointed to what looked like a large boulder behind a copse of trees. Dynaheir shushed her companion and looked in the direction he had indicated.

"Tis just some rocks my faithful one." Dynaheir wasn't sure at all what Minsc thought his rodent had 'found;' perhaps the pain he was feeling was making him delirious. Jaheira glanced up from her ministrations as well and shrugged her shoulders. She spoke to Ajantis though she never turned to look at him.

"If you would, sir knight, go and see if there is anything. Likely my excited patient will refuse to calm unless someone checks it out."

Wet grass made slippery noises under the Waterhavian's heavy boots as he went in the direction of the rocks. Pulling aside some brambles, he wrinkled his nose at the foul odor that suddenly engulfed him. Further scrutiny of the rocks proved fruitful when Ajantis found a large man-sized hole, light from a fire illuminating a spacious cave. "You were right, Minsc. There is something here … and it smells quite awful. Dead bodies, if I had to hazard a guess. Perhaps a tomb?"

"Yes! Yes, that was it. I remember the stench!" Kivan called out, leaning back down in the grass as he felt his head become woozy again. It was as if there was a roiling ocean inside his skull, the slosh of the water making him so dizzy as to be nauseous.

Dynaheir saw Minsc's mouth go up into a smile, and she felt one forming on her face in kind. That would not have been the first time that her companion had an idea that everyone else found to be ridiculous only to have such an idea be confirmed. A shadow passed across the Wychalarn's lovely features as Imoen stood and walked past her, moving to go next to Ajantis, the collar of the girl's shirt pulled up over her nose; ready for whatever odor she might encounter.

"Eugh! Gross!" Imoen called out, the scent-prevention of her attire proving inadequate to block out the stench of rotten flesh … and something worse; the sharp tang and copper scent of fresh blood and a lot of it from the pungency of the reek that wafted up out of the opening. "There's a fire goin'? Do you … do you think whoever did this is still in there?" The thief asked, a shiver going up her back.

"If they are they are likely dead. If not then your over-loud voice would have enticed them to attack us. Do try to be more silent in the future." Xan recommended snidely as he too went over the tomb. He ignored the dagger eyes Imoen shot at him and continued his speech. "There must have been a _normal _entrance for this place, if a tomb it is. This opening here looks to be the escaping point our resident cleric and the angst-filled ranger made for themselves."

Years of training in the Order had hardened Ajantis against fear of the unknown, for the most part of it. He steeled himself now as he mimicked Imoen's actions and pulled the collar of his tunic so that it was covering his mouth and nose. "No time like the present. I shall go first in case there is danger within."

"What? No! What if the place is trapped? Let me go!" Imoen offered immediately, the worry of what danger she could be putting herself in coming second and she swallowed past it. The girl knew that investigating this place could help the group discern exactly what had happened to Kivan and Lilliana, and when they knew what it was that caused their injuries the better they could fix them. _Knowledge is the key to power. _The oft-spoken words of the monks of Candlekeep reciting the many tenets of Oghma echoed in her head and she almost smiled at them.

"Absolutely not! The main entrance is no doubt the one that is trapped, why else would Lilliana and Kivan be forced to make their own escape point? Nonetheless that doesn't mean it isn't full of _other_ dangers. I am ready for anything that might happen to me. You, Imoen, are not." Ajantis insisted and Xan rolled his eyes behind him.

'_Humans, how predictable they are in their many attempts to prove which of them is more capable.'_ The high elf thought unkindly and silenced their argument as he raised his own voice loud enough to be heard of the shrill beginnings of Imoen's angry response. "As a Greycloak I am more than able to look inside the place without any of us touching our feet within. How else to do you imagine the law enforcement of Evereska is able to look about an area safely when we have no thieves to break traps and pick locks?"

The knight and the thief exchanged glances, both shrugging in acquiescence as Ajantis nodded. "Yes, I suppose that would be best."

"B-Be careful!" Khalid cautioned from his spot with the prone Lilliana across his lap. "We don't n-need anymore m-more members of our g-group r-requiring unconscious-s-s-ness to k-keep t-them f-from attack-k-k-ing one a-another."

A casting of 'Wizard Eye' created just that, a floating orb under the control of the wizard that has called upon it. Imoen eyed the object with disgust but Xan seemed unaffected by it. Likely, he had used it many times, enough to get used to its disconcerting appearance. Either that or he was unaffected by most things, though as much as he complained Imoen thought such a thing unlikely. All three of them waited as the orb descended down into the fire light gloom of the room below them. Xan's silver eyes went a glowing white and when the young thief looked at him she nearly jumped. The high elf spoke slowly as the eye reported information back to him.

"There are pieces of a humanoid body splattered across a small area, recently deceased though flies have begun to cluster around several of the larger chunks." He spoke matter-of-factly, oblivious to the disgusted expressions on the faces of both Ajantis and Imoen, the young red head looking the most ill of the two. "There is an empty cabinet, a small fire going within an empty marble coffin … a smoke hole was made in the stone ceiling above it. The floor is rough and uneven … I see several items cluttering it. Mostly daggers and small knives. They look to have fallen not far from the pieces of the carcass I spoke of. The murder weapons perhaps? Alright … a few chest are against the wall … maybe some of Kivan and Lilliana's things could be inside? Likely not, though if they are then the chests are probably trapped heavily."

Imoen felt the urge to gag. _Pieces of a humanoid body splattered across a small area … _It created an image that was most disturbing and the thief felt glad that Xan had been the one to first spot such a thing and not herself. When the wizard spoke of trapped chests she knew that she'd likely have to go down there, though now she wished she'd never come over to look in the first place. Ajantis sent a sympathetic smile, as if he knew what she was thinking and Imoen smiled back, the first time she'd given him a genuine warm gesture since they'd rescued Dynaheir.

Xan continued as before, the eerie glow of his eyes dimming as the spell began to wane. "Beyond that there are several marble coffins … a tomb indeed. Ah, yes I see. Likely the lovely rotting aroma we can all smell is emanating from a circle of decayed corpses. It is hard to tell how long they have been dead … mostly male and female humans by the looks. Some appear as if they have been rotting for at least a week and others much longer. They must have been lain in a spherical shape on purpose … maybe a ritual or the like. I see nothing more of interest." Xan finished as his eyes went back to their normal shade of silver. "That spell took far more energy to cast and hold then it should have. Whoever took Lilliana and Kivan must have warded this place against any kind of magic."

"Me and Lil were kidnapped by some bandits awhile back … they had cages like that. Lil couldn't even conjure anything. Hey! Ya think this was more bandits that did this?" Imoen asked, eyes lighting up as the gears in her head were whirring.

"Simple bandits? I doubt it, unless it was a few rogues that were working with a mage. Regular highwaymen wouldn't likely have enough knowledge to create magical wards powerful enough to block out even clerical conjurations. The bandits you encountered earlier must have had a wizard amongst their rabble. Now either the wards waned on their own after a certain time or Lilliana managed to call for a conjuration that was powerful enough to break through any blockage that would have otherwise prevented it."

Kivan had spoken of hearing and sensing two people beyond themselves, both evil, but one that was mimicking Lilliana. "Or someone else." Ajantis offered and Xan nodded.

"Or someone else. In any case it appears to be safe for us to enter now, though once inside I would suggest you, Imoen, look for any traps." The high elf added and got nothing more but a cursory nod of the girl's head in response.

"My sister … she practically lives for Lathander and you're tellin' me that … that she was in here, being hurt or tortured bad enough ta' make her crazed and … she couldn't even feel Lathander's presence? Just her 'n' Kivan, alone and being harmed with no one to help 'em?" Imoen asked, her eyes downcast and the hitching in her voice of one that was ready to cry.

Xan was surely not the sympathetic type but even he understood how bad that must have seemed, especially to a family member or a friend. He nodded slowly, not a hint of his normal conceit in his voice. "I … yes. So it would seem."

Imoen felt her chest tightening up and bit her lip to prevent any sounds of such distress and looked away from the two males. When she looked back she had forced herself to calm, and waved her hand in the direction of the make-shift entrance. "After you I guess."

* * *

**12'th of Kythorn **

A tremendous storm front had moved in on the Sword Coast once again, and the town of Beregost was huddled in the downpour of rain, it's citizens hidden away inside the safety of their homes or some of the local inns. Lathander's temple stood tall as it always had but even it had a cowed appearance when held in the grip of a powerful tempest.

Mayor Keldath Ormlyr hated such evenings. His faith in the Morning Lord was as strong as ever but as one of the god's high priests even he felt depressed at such a lack of light that evening brought, made even worse by a strong thundershower. Over the booming and crackling of lightning he heard shouting coming from just outside the temple. He sighed, aggravated at the disturbance and shrugged a robe on as he left his quarters and went into the temple proper.

The double doors of the main entrance had been flung open, and standing there drenched and weary was Lilliana and her companions. The girl herself was flailing about, screaming in what Keldath could have sworn was the demon tongue. Cuss words and insults the likes of which he never would have expected from the mouth of one normally gentile were hurled at the girl's friend and the priests around them alike.

"What is the meaning of this?! What is this foulness you bring to the temple of His Most Brilliant?!" The mornmaster shouted, the few of his priests that weren't engaged in holding the newly named dawnmistress down turning to look at him.

"Master Ormlyr! We barely made it into town before Lady Lilliana … before she … well look!" Ajantis Ilvastarr called out as he reached for the half-high elf, preventing her from going after one of the dawnmasters. "She requires the aid of her Lord!"

Slumped against the wall was Xan, the high elf enchanter thrown against a pillar and knocked out when he'd tried to magically make Lilliana unconscious after she'd awoken. Keldath had not seen the elf before, but he recognized a few of the others; the two Harpers, the knight and Imoen Voltaire, and Lady Avalon's sister. The huge Rashemite warrior, a dark skinned female mage and a wood-elf were unfamiliar to him, but all of them looked worse for wear. The wood elf was also unconscious, though wrapped and being carried by the giant man it appeared as if that was not a _recent _problem.

Lilliana herself was nearly unrecognizable, clothes doused in dried blood and screeching like a banshee. It was taking both of the Harpers, Ajantis, Imoen and three of Keldath's priests to hold her down as she bucked against them. "What manner of madness is this? She looks possessed!" The older man stated sharply, already sending some of the priests to fetch items necessary for an expunging of a person that had been taken over by troubled spirits.

"Master Kivan, the wood elf here, and Lady Lilliana were kidnapped by some kind of madman … we aren't sure … what happened but, yes, we think she might be possessed and both of them … also seem … seem poisoned!" Ajantis managed to get out through short breaths as he struggled to help keep the half high-elf under some measure of control. "But we can't stand here and … talk! Are you going to … to help her or not?!"

There was a nod from the mornmaster as he ordered the dawnmasters to take Lilliana to the vestibule and bind her down with enchanted ropes. "Get three bowls of holy water, as many candles as you can find and Oil of the Blessed. We'll also need the Book of Dawn and fetch my cross and amulet from my closet. Hurry!"

"Yes your eminence! Right away!" There were no questions from the priests as they went about their tasks.

"Hold, Sir Ilvastarr! I must insist on you and your companions waiting out here. Aid for dawnmistress Avalon would be hindered by the presence of the non-faithful. It is a powerful conjuration that requires all those making a plea for Lathander's assistance to have a connection with Him." Keldath called out to the knight of the Order and the others. Six priests took over for the group as they held Lilliana down, half carrying and half dragging her to an enclosed vestibule, shutting the door tightly once they were within. Lilliana's screams echoed through the halls. "As they ready the room for me I must ask you to clarify the situation. I cannot help if I am left unaware of the circumstances."

Jaheira and Khalid looked at each other, their minds and hearts weary. It had been a long journey from the wilderness outside Nashkel to Beregost. Keeping Lilliana unconscious was the only way to keep her from hurting herself or anyone else, as much as the companions hated to admit that. Thank the gods for Xan. Jaheira couldn't believe she was thinking such a thing but if she were an honest person, and she was, she _had_ to admit that if not for the high elf she wasn't sure how they would have gotten Lilliana away from her sister without physically harming her. Even after that, the cleric had woken up several times during the journey, each time growing more and more unlike herself as if she were possessed by the foulest of demons.

Matters were made even more troublesome after Imoen, Ajantis and Xan revealed what they had found inside the tomb. What horrors Kivan and Lilliana were put through remained a mystery, as did their manner of escape. If Lilliana had been the one to kill her kidnapper it did not bode well for her as a child of tainted lineage. Her changing personality seemed like a toll for the bells of the Nine Hells and the Harpers worried that Gorion's faith in his daughter to overcome her heritage might have been a false hope. No solution presented itself beyond harming Lilliana and no matter what was happening to the girl that was something that neither Jaheira nor Khalid were willing to do.

The companions had managed to get much farther from Nashkel then they had originally estimated and Beregost had proven to be much closer. Jaheira had done her best to fight against the poison that was affecting both Kivan and Lilliana, but she couldn't seem to purge it from their systems. The wood elf ranger experienced small bouts of consciousness but they didn't last long. By the time the companions made it into town, it was obvious that they must take their sickened companions to the Temple of Morning Song if they had hope to save them. Lilliana had awoken yet again as soon as they neared the structure of the church as if the dark entity that had control over her quailed at the very idea of being within such a holy place. There was little choice now, and the Harpers only hoped that Lilliana could be helped without everyone finding out what she was.

Imoen balked at being forced to remain outside; concern for her sister far outweighed any fear of Lilliana attacking her again. Surprisingly it was Dynaheir that calmed her down.

"Yon priest is right, Imoen. Thou art in a place of faith, and we must trust in that faith to help our troubled Lilliana. Thee actions have reached their limit of use, now 'tis more a matter of our prayers. I know not which divinities each of us feel close to, but 'tis the time to call upon them and let these priests do what they can. 'Tis no mystery that thou doth care not for me, but perhaps we two shall stand here and pray together, yes? For thou sister is in the hands of her Lathander now." Kindly amber eyes looked at the young red head and Imoen nodded, letting the Wychlaran drape an arm around her shoulders in comfort.

Ajantis sighed heavily, feeling as though the weight of Abeir-Toril had been set upon him. He watched as what acolytes there were in the temple that weren't assisting Lilliana went about the task of setting Minsc' broken nose. The huge man fidgeted as a child might, but he braved whatever pain there was very well. Keldath smiled warmly at the knight and Ajantis could barely contain the shock of such a look sent his way by one that had proven his dislike before.

"She is one of your own faithful, as dear to us as she is to you, her friends. Even though you are a Helmite I ask you to trust in us to save her, and we shall. I am certain of it. Come, talk with me." The mornmaster motioned the knight to follow him as the priest instructed two of his acolytes to see to Kivan and try to find what poison it was that was in his system. "So too shall we see to the others. It was wise of you to bring such problems to us."

Thanking the pompous priest would have normally been quite difficult for Ajantis, but in this situation his own pride felt unimportant and didn't stop him from offering his gratitude. "We thank you Master Ormlyr. I am afraid, however, that I cannot tell you much. Even us, her own companions, are unaware of what exactly is affecting Lilliana, of what has poisoned both her and Master Kivan. As a paladin I can tell you that I feel a heavy sense of evil and dread from the place where this occurred. We stumbled upon it thanks to the Rashemite ranger there." He motioned to where Minsc was being assisted by a very pretty blonde priestess. "It was a tomb that someone had made into a … a torture chamber of sorts. We, the group that is, have come to the conclusion that there were two captors and that one murdered the other and then fled, maybe because of Lilliana or Kivan but neither of them can recall what happened. Lilliana not really in the position to answer any questions and Kivan's recollections are nothing but short bursts of awful memory. We found Kivan's weapons there, twisted and broken as if by a foul magic; hardly conclusive though."

A grave nod was at first the only answer mornmaster Ormlyr offered, finally speaking quietly to Ajantis. "I … see. If it is a possession, and I think it is, we must purge it from her body or she could die. Beyond that we have that poison you spoke of to be concerned with. Lathander's power is great, especially in this place, but you need to be prepared in case things do not go well. You … you understand what I am telling you?"

Since they had first come upon Kivan and Lilliana, Ajantis had constantly been worried that either of them could perish if they were not fully healed. He was no stranger to exorcisms either and knew how dangerous they could be if anything went wrong.

"I can see on your face that you understand. Please, you must also realize that even if we do bring her back and both her and the wood elf are cured … that doesn't mean they will be back to full health right away. It could be necessary that both of them are kept out of commission for awhile." With a nod from Ajantis the mornmaster went into the vestibule and the companions were left to wait.

* * *

Someone had lit a fire in the room and Lilliana's first conscious thought was why on Toril they believed a fire was necessary in the middle of the Sword Coast's hottest month. It took an immense amount of courage to open her eyes, the cleric's mind conjuring images of her torturer leaning over her with a bloodied dagger in hand. Finally, she opened them and was met with only a slightly discolored ceiling, the flames of a fire dancing on it merrily. Under her was the softness of a fine feather mattress; her body covered by a patchwork bedspread with a _very_ familiar pattern on it.

_My bedroom!_

The biggest shock was when the cleric caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror by the dresser and saw not a half-elf of twenty years but a child of little more than twelve, if that. She moved her right hand and the reflection moved its right hand, she stuck her tongue out and the reflection stuck its tongue out.

_But . . . it can't be! I must be dreaming!_

"Lilliana? Sweetheart you really need to go to sleep. There is plenty of fun to be had tomorrow, but only if you get some sleep tonight." Gorion's voice came from the door he had opened, and there standing in the light thrown by the candelabras in the hallway was the man himself, a gray bed robe wrapped around his aging frame and a gentle but stern smile on his face.

"Papa? No, please, no more dreams … I cannot take it anymore!" Lilliana cried out, closing her eyes tightly and trying to pinch herself awake. She found her body hugged tightly against that of her father's, the scent of the sandalwood soap he often used wafting up her nostrils. She wanted to fight the phantom off, to wake up and not be taunted any longer by what she could not have … but it was lovely to be hugged by Gorion.

"More dreams? Oh dear … they are of the red eyed monster again aren't they? I knew I should have had Tethtoril fetch me some fresh chamomile leaves … they might have soothed you into _dreamless_ slumber."

He felt real, he smelled real and the gentle weight of the sage's arms around her smaller body felt achingly and pleasantly recognizable. "Papa …." Lilliana managed, grabbing onto him as if he were an anchor in the violent waves of a churning sea, the tempest that sent the water crashing threatening to drag them apart. As if to make such a point factual the loud crack of lightning sounded from outside Lilliana's bedroom window, rolling thunder coming soon after as sheets of rain pelted against the thick glass.

"Come, we'll get some warm tea into that restless body of yours. Would you like some cookies as well? Missus Sinclair baked some for the Keeper's meeting tomorrow and there are a few dozen extra. She always over does it." Warm laughter rumbled in Gorion's chest as he kissed the top of Lilliana's head.

Missus Sinclair … the cook. Lilliana knew that name. Her baked goods were always extremely tasty. "Cookies, Papa? Is this … real?" She asked tentatively, grabbing onto Gorion's hand as the sage rose from where he had been kneeling beside her bed.

"Is what real, sweet pea?"

"You, me … how old am I?"

Gorion's gentle eyes were unsettled as he gazed down at his daughter. "Lilliana … what's wrong? You have had dreams before, none of them left you _this _worried afterwards."

"Please! How old am I?!" She begged, grasping at her father's robes, eyes wide with her plea.

"Alright, alright, calm down. My gracious! Such anxiety over something as simple as a birthday." When she was ready to ask him again for her age he silenced her with a finger across her small lips. "Sshhh … It is probably around the tenth hour of the evening which means you are eleven for only _two more hours _and then you'll be twelve. Lilliana I promise you that your birthday party will be fine, and you really need to relax. Stay here, I'll go get your tea and cookies."

"Papa!" She cried out, nearly jumping from her bed. He turned back and smiled at her. "I love you."

"I love you too sweetheart. Now be a good girl and stay here, I'll be back soon." Gorion's tall outline became nothing more than a shadow and then even that disappeared as he walked down the hallway. Lilliana listened until she could no longer hear his footsteps on the tiles.

_Could all of it have been a dream? _Her father murdered, Imoen and herself kidnapped by bandits, meeting a dark elf, learning to fight with two massive war hammers, venturing into a kobold-infested mine … being tortured and almost murdered by a madman. The room felt so real. Nothing about it seemed like a dream and now that Lilliana thought about it the events of the past month must have been a dream … a nightmare more like.

The reflection of a soon-to-be-twelve year old girl in the mirror seemed the final piece to seal the deal. _Oh, thank Lathander it had all been a dream!_ Though even if it was a horrible and long dream it hadn't been _all_ bad. Not when she thought of the people she'd met, being grown up and becoming a real cleric of the Morning Lord.

She dragged her short legs out from under the quilt and smiled at the scent of the lavender sprigs she had in a jar by her bed. Quietly the half high-elf padded towards her door and peered out into the hallway. A few monks were still up, reading at tables littered with tomes. "I'm home … I'm really home" She smiled until she remembered something. _Imoen!_

"Lady Avalon! Return to your quarters at once." The angry voice of a tired and cranky Ulraunt drifted down the long hall as Lilliana looked up and spotted him. "I will not have any child running amok at _my_ keep unattended when they should be sleeping."

"Master Ulraunt … I-I'm sorry … I was … Is Imoen here?" The girl timidly asked, wincing at the glare the tall man shot her.

"And just who on Toril is _Imoen_?"

A cold feeling crept into Lilliana's gut and she almost cried right then and there. To have the horrors she experienced be nothing more than a dream of a restless child was wonderful … but Imoen … Imoen had been a dream too? No, _that_, the young half high-elf thought, wasn't wonderful at all … it was _horrible._

"Master Winthrop's adopted daughter." She tried to clarify, not adding 'best friend' and 'sister' to the description as if that wouldn't make her heart clench.

"Lady Avalon, Winthrop Voltaire _has no '_adopted daughter'. Now enough of this. I will not be privy to your childhood fantasies of imagined friends. Go … to … your … quarters!" The ruler of Candlekeep enunciated each word with a sharp shake of his finger, glowering at little Lilliana angrily.

"Y-Yes, Master Ulraunt." Lilliana dropped her head in submission and trudged back into her room. Hot tears began to sting her eyes and she rubbed at them. _No Imoen_. No girl that was the young half elf's best friend and later a sister. She had seemed so real … she _had_ to be real. Lilliana remembered her but she couldn't recall how old she had been when Imoen had arrived. _Eleven? Twelve? Thirteen?_ No, not remembered. If all the events that happened after Lilliana turned twelve were nothing but a dream then there could have been no memory of the sprightly red head. It had all been, as Ulraunt had said, naught but childish fantasy.

It was so strange to be a child and yet have feelings from an imagined adulthood. She looked over to the dolls that sat on the top of a floral painted armoire and couldn't seem to remember ever wanting to play with them. Rain continued to pour outside and Lilliana went over to the window and pressed her face against the glass, her breath creating patches of film. Small lanterns were hanging under eaves of some smaller buildings and in that hazy light Lilliana spotted a few watchers. Another crack of lightning lit up the sky, bright tendrils reaching out across the roiling blackness like the fingers of an angry god. When her father called her name, she almost screamed.

"Come away from the window please, it makes me nervous. Sit and I'll put the tray across your lap." The sage bid her, motioning to a wooden folding tray with a small porcelain cup and saucer sat upon it's worn surface, steam rolling up from the white rim, and a napkin that was the cradle for three shortbread cookies. Lilliana did as Gorion asked, pulling the quilt back over her legs. "There's my girl. Would you like me to stay with you until you finish or are you alright on your own?"

"No, please stay!" He couldn't leave her, not again. In her desperation she latched onto him, clutching madly so he wouldn't go.

He eased her fingers down, soothing with his calm voice. "It's alright star shine, I wasn't going anywhere." A wide smile graced his kindly face but he raised a brow in puzzlement at the expression Lilliana was wearing.

She heard a voice, one that she'd heard a few times when giving her morning prayers … Lathander. Over the noise of the storm and her father's words it was difficult to understand him but slowly her mind comprehended the disembodied speech. It whispered a warning in the back of her head, echoing in her thoughts.

'All is not what it seems. All is not what it seems. Come back Lilliana. Come back Lilliana … Gorion never once called you 'star shine.''

"You've called me a lot of things Papa, but 'star shine' was never one of them." An uncomfortable tingle of worry ran across her brain as the lightning outside ran across the sky. She recalled the memory, no matter how 'imagined' they had been, of the dreams she'd had before … of the feeling of unease she had accumulated with them after the added mention of a disturbing dream that Imoen experienced. She had to think quick, if this was another dream, before the phantom could read her thoughts. _No such person as Imoen, Ulraunt had said. _"Papa … I really want my sister to be at my birthday party tomorrow … but Master Voltaire won't let her come. Can you talk to him please?"

"Certainly. Anything for my little pri … clever girl." The thing that wore Gorion's face finished with a sneer.

Lilliana's eyes were wide with fear as the facade of her father began to melt away, red eyes permeating orbs that would have held nothing but kindness if it really had been Gorion.

'Run Lilliana! This abhorrence cannot touch your mind unless you let it … I am here with you my child. Run!'

The cleric didn't have to be told a third time, bolting from the bed as the dreamscape she was in began to melt, mutating into something far less pleasant. The phantom that had taken her father's face began to howl in an unearthly fashion, giving chase as clawed demon feet scraped on the tiles. Lilliana tripped on a ragged carpet, looking in horror at the mocking faces of the false monks that watched her as if her flight was little more than a macabre play.

"No, stay away from me! I don't want your help anymore! I refuse!" She screamed, realizing what she had done by accepting the thing's assistance against Nimbul. "My Lord … help me!" If the presence of the phantom in her dreams had created a false sense of safety than Lathander's presence was so warm as to give her a strength she didn't even know she had. It may not have been all that she _wished_ for, but it was what she _needed_. The cleric scrambled to her feet, forcing as much speed as she could muster.

'I am here. Run down the stairs and take a left at the next corner. Hold your amulet close. It is a manifestation of your faith in this unholy realm. Quickly, my child!'

"Oh, it's _far _too late to refuse, Lilliana. You are mine now!" The entity roared and Lilliana screamed piercingly as it rounded the bend in the hall, its monstrous face set into a hideous grin.

The cleric's tongue was hanging out of her mouth, heart pounding and lungs working so hard that she tasted copper. How could this be a dream and drain her energy as if it were real? Her palm felt sweaty where she gripped the amulet that swung at her neck, an amulet that she didn't have before.

'This is not a dream, the abhorrence created this place using your mind. Turn its own tricks against it! The door you come to at the end of the hall will be locked … remove the door with your thoughts and form an open portal way. You can do this!'

"Who are you talking to?! Who is helping you?!" Behind her the demonic phantom began to realize it was losing control and it didn't like that at all.

"Oh, give me strength My Lord!" She had to press on and the only thing that gave her the bravery to do so was her faith. "By all that is holy, remove this door!" The wood before her began to splinter as the entity ran at her from the opposite end of the long hallway.

* * *

Candlelight illuminated the walls of the vestibule of the Song of Morning Temple. Though even their light seemed darkened by the stark evil and hatred emanating from the entity that Lathander's faithful were trying to exorcise.

"Galas benialias sig ayia! Enais inferas! Inferas il vegri shi!" The thing screamed in the language of the Nine Hells, lurching at them against the constraints that held it against a white cloth covered slab. Though Keldath was certainly not fluent in a language reserved for demons, devils and dark gods, he knew enough to realize that the thing was cursing him and the others into the abyss. It was certainly no speech that Lilliana should have known, and if Keldath wasn't already convinced that she was affected by an evil entity, that would have driven the thought home. Speaking a language that, by all rights, the possessed person shouldn't know was one of the things that the holy tenets spoke of.

"This is a powerful demon Eminence Ormlyr … I'm not sure we can …" One dawnmaster stuttered out. His superior and five other priests were attending to the bound form of what had been Lady Avalon. What it was that inhabited the body now was something far removed from any half-elf girl.

"Then we shall try harder. Lathander will heed my call, I am one of the favored! Keep chanting!" Keldath Ormlyr wiped sweat from his brow with a long sleeve, sending a glance to the thin windows where the girl's companions peeked inside. Already the high priest was suspicious of exactly what had happened when they brought here there. Somehow though he could discern no lies from the group's general consensus that they just did not know and were worried for her health, so he had agreed to perform an exorcism. However, the man himself would not normally lower the importance of his duties by participating in a thing that the dawnmasters alone could handle … until it became apparent that if Keldath did _not_ assist then his newest dawnmistress just might die.

Bowls of golden oil were lit next to the parapet on which Lilliana's body had been placed, her arms and legs constrained by conjured rope. Three basins of holy water had been placed on pedestals behind the girl's head and in-between chants the mornmaster dipped his thumb into the water and anointed Lilliana's forehead in the shape of a cross. He had taken his amulet and put it on the girl, it's power hopefully strong enough to fight through whatever evil it was that held her mind and body.

"Blessed light that is Lathander, let your brilliance wash over this, the soul of your faithful. Bring her back to her rightful place. Let not this evil hold her any longer. I, morning lord of your flock, Keldath Ormlyr beseech thee. In darkness bring thee light, in despair bring thee hope, in evil bring thee goodness, in chaos bring thee tranquility, in death bring thee life, in doubt bring thee certainty. Within this child, the dawnmistress Lilliana Avalon, bring thee aid. Purge this evil from her and bring your faithful into the warm embrace of your love!" He prayed, the chanting of the other priests joining with his own voice, raised to a feverous pitch.

Lilliana's body twisted and thrashed about. With a tremendous movement the constraints about her wrists were broken and she rose up, smiling wickedly and eyes like burning rubies. "Look at me _priest_, look at me and see the failure of your false god!" It yelled in glee. Keldath paid it no heed and the thing was made even more angry by such indifference. "I know about your mother little Keldath. She _hated _you didn't she? You were such a complicated child, your birth nearly killed her; made her incapable of having any more children. And your father … he thought you such a weak thing, a boy that was more a girl, a despised disappointment. You had not the strength he wanted to follow in his footsteps … always wanting to read, to plant flowers for your _god_. He burned your first holy book didn't he? Yes, yes, he did and you wanted to _kill _him for it! Does _Lathander_ know of your wicked thoughts?" It teased and Keldath finally favored it with a glance.

"Your words are hollow demon, go back to your foul Hells!" With a mighty shout, the mornmaster placed his cross against Lilliana's forehead, the entity within her letting loose with an awful hiss, like the sound of acid burning into the floor. The cross had created a smoking burn mark across her forehead and it sent gray tendrils up from her skin. Keldath began his prayers anew.

* * *

The door had broken just as Lathander said it would and Lilliana moved quickly. Behind her the monster screamed and howled as if it were in agony and the young cleric dared to look over her shoulder. It had stopped in the middle of the hall, grasping at its own head as smoke rose from its face. When the creature moved its hands away, Lilliana could clearly see a bright burning mark of the cross of Lathander on the thing's forehead.

"Horrid priests! I shall slaughter you all!" The entity howled, glancing up with a feral grin to find Lilliana staring at it. "I will get you little half-elf … oh yes!" Once again, it charged at her and Lilliana screamed, taking off in yet another dead run, bare feet slapping against the tiles of the conjured environment.

"No! Lathander! Lathander help me!" She shouted, tripping and falling down a small set of stairs. Her head banged painfully against the stone wall and for several moments she saw stars. She cringed at the sounds of the monstrosity that continued to hunt her down. Suddenly a brilliant light surrounded her and yet as bright as it was it didn't hurt her eyes when she looked into it. Instead, it was full of the most wonderful feelings of warmth, love and comfort.

"Lilliana."

A voice came from the light and through its brilliance the cleric made out a tall form, clad in glowing robes. It looked like a muscled man, perhaps within his thirtieth year with short blonde hair nearly the color of noon day sun and beautiful blue eyes, like the shade of summer sky. On his head was a small crown and around his neck swung a fine amulet that matched the one Lilliana had about her own neck. She knew immediately who it was and nearly cried in happiness and relief. "My Lord!" When he reached for her hand she took it gladly.

The creature that had plagued Lilliana came around the bend in the stairs and came to a complete halt when it saw the God of Light. It hissed at the divinity. "You cannot be here! This is _my_ realm! Ao would not allow it! How are you here?!"

Lathander wrapped his arms around Lilliana protectively and glared at the monster. "No, it is _you_ that do not belong here! Your time is over; you should have accepted that instead of plaguing the Children with your foulness. You are an abhorrence here that will not be tolerated. Ao will forgive my transgression once he knows of your attempts to steal the destiny of a mortal for your own perversions!"

"She is mine. You know that oh '_brilliant _one'. Her _destiny_ ismine, it always has been, it always will be. You shall not keep her from me!" It roared coming for the pair of them.

There was a scream from Lilliana but as soon as Lathander touched it the entity flew backwards and crashed through the wall. "Go back to your abyss, abomination!" The god yelled as both the cleric and her divinity were engulfed in His light.

* * *

Nearly every priest in the room had to cover their ears from the horrific wailing coming out of Lilliana's mouth. When the entity tried to rise up a second time Keldath bore the cross into its forehead once more. A might roar sounded off the room's four walls and black insidious smoke began to rise from Lilliana's body. For a brief second Keldath could have sworn he saw an ungodly face within the smoke, but then there was a brilliant flash of light and the entity was no more.

The possesion had taken a toll on Lilliana; the laceration across her neck and lip, which had started to heal, were now bleeding anew. Beyond that, though, there were no more words in demon tongue, no more thrashing, just the quiet whimpering of a frightened young cleric. When she looked up at the priests that stood around her the girl's eyes had regained their vivid emerald coloring. Keldath smiled down at her, and it sent her into a fit of shaking sobs. Lilliana pressed her hands against her face and cried, the mornmaster embracing her shoulders.

"It is alright dawnmistress, Lathander is victorious this day and you are back where you belong." Around her neck the medallion Keldath had placed there was glowing with residual energy and the priest knew then that his words rang true, Lathander had won … for now at least.

* * *

She was in one the priest's quarters of that she was certain even if she had never asked about the room they'd put her in outright. Lilliana had already been spoken to by Keldath about what had happened. Tucked inside clean fragrant sheets the cleric pressed her face into the pillows, crying frequently over all the awful images and thoughts that ran within her mind. A hand strayed up to her neck where Eminence Ormlyr's amulet still hung. She had been amazed to come to fully and find that the holy jewelry that had manifested itself into whatever 'realm' the evil entity had placed her in was actually real. It was surprisingly light weight, though Lilliana imagined that had it been normal jewelry it'd be far too heavy to wear to bed without getting welts. Even then, she was concerned about breaking it, but yet did not dare to remove it as if it was a safety net. The amulet was a lovely piece made in the fashion of a bejeweled mosaic, the sun rising over knolls of verdant green. It brought to mind the one beautiful and pleasant thing about her ordeal; Lathander had been there, he had _really_ been there. A warm glow from the love and security He offered stayed with the cleric still.

It was mid-day and the storm front that had blown through the region was all but gone, however it did leave the skies overcast and dreary. When looking out the paned windows to the grounds of the temple the cleric half wondered if it would even be warm outside. In the room she currently occupied it always felt chilly even though she was sure that had she asked anyone else they would have disagreed. Not every chill was caused by temperature; that the half high-elf knew very well.

A full day had gone by and still her companions had not been allowed to come see her. Lilliana felt guilty about it but at the same time was almost glad that she hadn't had any visits from her friends. Horrible images assaulted her when she slept, images of herself attacking her sister and of kissing her kidnapper and tasting his blood, among things far worse. When she woke from such nightmares she couldn't help the feeling that they were memories instead and that frightened her terribly. What if her companions did come to speak with her, only to tell her of the monstrous things she had done? And what of Imoen? Her own sister might even be afraid of her now and that was something that Lilliana could not bear.

Kivan was in her thoughts much of the time and she worried for him greatly. Her inability to recall what had happened made her angry at herself and did little to allay her fears. The madman's words, his felicitations of love … those were unfortunately imbedded in her psyche permanently. If only she could forget everything, instead of just bits and pieces. If only she never remembered waking next to a ring of rotting bodies, listening to Kivan screaming and being unable to help, drinking the blood of another and trying to strangle Imoen. If only she no longer could picture the horror of the entity in her vision. The words spoken between Lathander and the monster haunted her during her waking hours. She compiled such thoughts with other doubts and worries the cleric had previously. The puzzle was coming together to create an image most unpleasant.

What would she tell the others when she _did_ speak to them? And Lilliana knew that they would come to see her eventually, that soon Keldath would tell her she was off bed-rest and ready to get up and about again. Certainly, if they found out the few things that Lilliana remembered they would begin to doubt the kind of person she was. But to lie to their faces? She wasn't sure she could do that.

A door opened and Lilliana looked in the direction of it to find Mayor Ormlyr standing there with a small vial of liquid. She recognized the foul tasting medicinal concoction immediately and wrinkled her face. The morning lord walked over to her bedside and she pushed herself up, brushing back a fall of loose hair that was draped over one shoulder. Her head hurt horribly when she moved too quickly and that time was no different. Keldath gave her a moment to compose herself and then handed her the vial.

"This is the last you should have to take. Your ranger friend hasn't developed a taste for it either but at least we can be assured that the poisons you were given have been purged from your systems. I am still unsure of what person would know exactly how much to give you without killing you outright. A blend of chloroform, curare, syntactical cyanide and nightshade seems like overkill if he had wanted to just murder you and certainly I can't imagine most assassins having the knowledge to blend those in small enough amounts to make your systems shut down _slowly_. Though I _can _imagine why both of you suffer from such post-traumatic amnesia. The foreign chemicals in your body didn't help matters much." The high priest informed Lilliana as she gagged the medicine down.

"Eugh! Thank the gods that is the last of it. Does this mean I can see my companions?" She asked, a mix of hope and dread painted plainly on her face.

"Very soon, yes. Tell me, are you certain that you don't recall what happened to you?" Keldath had been trying to get more information out of her since she was lucid enough to talk but so far he'd gotten even less from the dawnmistress than from her friends. As before, the young cleric clenched up at that and shook her head. Keldath sighed and nodded. "Alright then, I shall trouble you with it no longer. I thought, perhaps, you would like to see Master Alieradon. He has responded well to his treatments and the prayers we have said for him. He's been asking about you."

"He has? Well, of course I'd love to go see him." Lilliana's face lit up in the first smile she'd worn since the whole mess had happened. As much as she was dreading being questioned by her companions, she felt joyously relieved that they were all alive and seemingly well. She remembered the amulet that was around her neck and looked at Eminence Ormlyr. "Oh! I forgot! You must want your amulet back by now."

Keldath waved her off. "No, no child you keep it. I am a morning lord, a mornmaster … Lathander will gift me with another of its kind. Right now you need it more than I."

Lilliana didn't know what to say, running her fingers across its jeweled surface. "Th … thank you your eminence. This gift pleases me more than I can express." She began to get up from bed but the morning lord motioned her to stay while he went to go fetch her a robe to put over her nightgown and a pair of slippers. Lilliana almost laughed at that, quite sure that Keldath Ormlyr wasn't one for fetching other peoples slippers. A frown marked her pallid features … _was she that fragile_? The young half high-elf sincerely hoped not because beyond her worries there was much work to be done. Still the companions had yet to figure out who was behind the bandit raids and right now Mulahey's letters were their only clue.

* * *

Kivan fidgeted in bed, unaccustomed to being forced to rest for such a long period of time. He was grateful for the care he'd received and more than a little surprised at how happy the acolytes that had been tending him seemed to be over helping not only one that was not of their faith, but a wood elf at that. From what he'd seen most of the religious temples up and down the Sword Coast were filled mostly with humans. Although to be fair, this particular temple had willingly accepted Lilliana - a half high-elf - into their ranks without complaint. While the ranger knew he wasn't about to start praying to the God of Light he had to admit the Lathanites, for the most part, didn't seem to be a bad bunch at all.

He looked up when his door was opened to see a lovely sight standing there. Lilliana smiled at him shyly, her face looking tired but free of cuts and somehow prettier than Kivan had remembered. "Hello." He greeted simply as Keldath, who had been accompanying the girl, shut the door and left them alone.

"Hello." Lilliana responded as she padded softly over to where Kivan had propped himself up against the pillows. "You are well they tell me."

The wood elf nodded, smiling at her brightly. He had been sick with worry for her, which surprised him. Kivan hadn't been concerned over another since his wife had been murdered, he hadn't even had a care to have any friends. Lilliana was his friend, that much was true and after the ordeal they'd been through, leastwise what he could recall of it, she'd earn the right for him to admit such a thing to himself and be the friend to her that she was to him. He reached out for her hand and squeezed it with his own. "I am better than before yes. I think I owe some of that to you. I don't know how you got us out of that place … but you did. Lilliana … I … I should have been there to help you. I could hear things, horrible things …." The wood elf started but paused when he saw the stricken look on the cleric's face. "Lilliana?"

"What? Oh, I am fine. I just … well I don't remember anything and it … could we just talk about something else?" Her eyes pleaded with him more than her voice ever could and he nodded.

"Of course." Kivan wasn't sure of what had occurred, and while he didn't quite believe that Lilliana remembered nothing he certainly didn't want to cause her any distress by making further inquiries. There times in his slumber that he almost thought Lilliana had brutally murdered their attacker, but of course that was ridiculous. Whatever had happened, if Lilliana wanted to forget it he would abide by her wishes. Although that didn't keep him from pondering on it further. "Have you seen the others yet? Imoen came to see me earlier; the group is staying at the Jovial Juggler. Apparently, they have plans to go and investigate this 'Tranzig', the wizard contact that was mentioned in that fiend Mulahey's letters. He's at Feldeposts Inn so it's probably better that they aren't staying there, though from what your sister has told me they haven't gone to confront him yet. I'd love to hear what he has to say but it is probably for the best that we aren't involved when we aren't operating at the best of our abilities."

"Eminence Ormlyr hasn't let me see anyone yet, no. Today I can if I would like to. Kivan can I … can I ask you something?" When he nodded, Lilliana continued. "Do you think there could have been _two_ kidnappers?"

The ranger had thought about that at great length, the third voice he had sworn he'd heard lending some credence to such a theory and he nodded. He was still quite confused about all of it but it certainly was possible. "Yes, there certainly could have been two of them."

Lilliana nodded, a strange half grin/half frown playing on her face that Kivan was having trouble deciphering. "Good, that's good … it helps make things clearer to me. The others … do they believe there were two attackers?"

"I really don't know. I thought you wanted to talk about something else?" Kivan raised one brown brow at her, his face full of puzzlement.

"Yes, yes I do. Like the two of us staging a break and getting out of here. Maybe getting a real drink. The medicine we had to take was pretty awful." She smiled at him warmly and the ranger smiled back.

"I agree. Some Evermead?" He suggested.

"That sounds lovely." Lilliana agreed.

The amulet around the cleric's neck caught the light and reflected it into a dancing little orb that skirted about the room in response to the girl's movements. With the sky still hazy, it certainly wasn't a perfect day but there were patches of sunlight trying to break through already. _Better times ahead_, Lilliana hoped.


	12. Chapter Eleven: War Mongering

**Disclaimer:** _"Forgotten Realms: Baldur's Gate" belongs to Bioware, TSR, and Black Isle Studios. Lilliana is mine and situations that you don't recognize from the game are mine, all other material and inspiration for my material is under copyright by the above named. Additional Forgotten Realms material included in this story but not in the game belongs to Wizards of the Coast._

**Words From The Author: **_It's alive! Not unlike Frankenstein, this is a MONSTER of a chapter. In fact there is much more to it that I included in the chapter after this one because it was getting too long. You, those that have waited for an eternity for this story to be updated, have waited long enough so I didn't want to wait for the chapter to be beta read or edited. I have gone over it myself enough that I've caught MOST of the typos, so please bear with me and if you spot anymore feel free to let me know. :) I thank you for staying with me for this long and I think you'll enjoy this chapter so I hope it was worth the wait. There is a scene in here many of you may recognize from the introduction movie of the first BG game, though in true Empress fashion I've tweaked it so that it is a bit changed. Not only that it occurs later then one might expect, it also contains more graphicness I imagine, but I hope no one is too offended at me taking liberties. Enjoy!_

_As always thank you, dear readers, for joining Lilliana on her journey!_

* * *

**Chapter Eleven:**

**War Mongering**

* * *

**9'th of Kythorn (**_**six days ago**_**)**

**A **starlit blanket of black was host to a large full moon, its glow lighting long rows of fields as it bathed the village of Nashkel in lunar luminosity. Mayor Berrun Ghatskill looked up at that moon and yawned as he leaned against a post on his porch. He'd been woken during the night by a strange noise though once he'd gotten out of his bed there was naught but chirping insects and a few yips of neighborhood dogs. Staring out into the evening and the dusty main road through town he contemplated the recent peace of their hamlet. No matter what ill words Berrun heard about the Harpers he knew that those of Nashkel owed much to at least two of their number and the companions that had traveled with them. When Khalid and Jaheira Kostas had cleared the mines they'd given life back to Nashkel . . . but it was not without a price. Several good men had been killed in those mines.

_"It isn't over yet, mayor. The iron shortage only added to the troubles of the bandits that have been stealing what good iron there was. I've little doubt that the raids will continue. This whole setup, it was far too cloaked in shadow for my liking and I'll bet that before this mess is over many more players will have hidden themselves ever deeper in those shadows."_ Jaheira Kostas had told him and he agreed whole heartedly.

Delilah, his wife, slept so soundly that she'd barely fidgeted when he'd gotten out of bed. Berrun smiled at the thought of the woman that'd shared his life for twenty plus years. Such pleasant reflections were muted by the howl of wolves, cutting through the night air like a blade.

"After my chickens _again_!" Berrun shouted as he ran back into his house for his short sword. His wife peered from their bedroom, tired face drawn into a look of worry. Both of them knew of the increase in activity from the local wolf packs and they'd frequently been plagued by them many times before tonight. Berrun Ghatskill had long shared his mayoral duties with his wife, finding that sometimes he really needed a woman's perspective.

"Berrun! What is it?!"

"It's those blasted wolves again! I've been telling every mercenary and hunter that's passed through here that the shopkeeper is licensed to pay 'em _thrice_ over for the hides of the rotten buggers, but it's not enough! The whole coast is infested!" The aging man took his blade from a locked trunk and patted his wife on the cheek. "Stay here 'Lilah. Wouldn't do to have you getting hurt. I won't be long."

"Oh, be careful!" Delilah cautioned as her husband went out the back door. Though her husband put little stock in rumors and gossip, Delilah had heard some worrying things over the last few days. Wolves that walked as men, remaining just far enough in the darkness of night to avoid being seen. The day before yesterday Marla and Thurston Umbrage had lost half of their sheep to a nocturnal attack. Marla had been frantic when speaking with Delilah before church had begun the morning after the encounter. Her hands had been wringing fretfully as she spoke of unearthly howling that had frightened the woman and her husband so badly they hadn't dared to try and save their sheep. _"It weren't no wolves Mistress Ghatskill! I know what wolves sound like . . . it was monsters!" _Marla had told her then. Delilah felt goose bumps forming on her arms at the thought of what could be out there in the night. Despite Berrun's warning she grabbed a meat cleaver from the kitchen drawer and padded outside.

The moonlight lit up the entire yard and Berrun could easily find his way to the chicken coop. He already heard them squawking and saw the wooden gate ajar. He held his sword at the ready as he kicked the swinging gate all the way open. "Alright you bastards . . . !"

Words of anger died in his throat when the creature turned to look at him, a bloodied decapitated chicken in one malformed claw, feathers sticking out of its mouth, elongated snout covered in dark fluid. It opened that hideous maw and roared at Berrun. When it rose on its haunches, to stand on two clawed feet, it nearly filled the entire coop with its grotesquely muscled and furred mass.

"Sweet Helm!" Berrun screamed, frozen in place by fear. Delilah came up behind her husband and dropped the cleaver from her hand in shock, screaming in terror at what she saw.

It lunged at them both, driving the couple to the ground. Delilah screeched even louder as another of the creatures bounded from somewhere behind their home and grabbed her. She was twisted in thick furry arms with a reeking paw over her mouth. To her continued horror the creature that had her husband pinned to the ground began to speak, the words coming out over a long tongue and sounding as if they were half growls and half common. She was kept silent by the palm across her face but her eyes went as wide as saucers.

"We want the half elf!" The thing growled, holding Berrun up by the throat now as it stood from the ground.

"W-what . . .w-what half elf?" Berrun asked, trembling in fear so badly it was a wonder he'd been able to comprehend that a question had been asked.

"Don't play stupid! With two Harpers! The she-elf! Young . . .very pale skin! Black hair! Green eyes! WWHHEERREE?!" The creature might have smiled when it saw the mayor's eyes widen in realization, though it was hard to tell. It could have simply been baring its teeth.

_The elf girl! That's who they're looking for, one of the two young sisters Jaheira and Khalid had with them._ Berrun couldn't recall her name but that was the only member in the group that could be described as a 'young, pale skinned, black haired, green eyed she-elf' Whatever manner of creatures these things were there was no way that he was going to tell them where the Harpers went, or anyone else they had with them. "Headed for Waterdeep, to see the elf's parents." Berrun responded.

Red eyes glinted angrily in a dark face. "You lie!" It snarled, shoving against Berrun like a dead weight, claws digging at the man's face. The mayor shouted and yelled, trying futilely to bat at his attacker, finally calming as the creature stopped. The thing turned to its partner and the captive it held. Mayor Ghatskill looked at his wife imploringly, fearing that to make any noise would draw the thing's ire once again.

"The half-elf! Tell us or ddiiee!" The one that held her growled into her ear, the rank smell of half digested meat on its breath.

Her own survival was staring her right in the face now. The palm was removed from her mouth but Delilah was certain that if she screamed she was dead where she stood. Looking at Berrun she saw the pleading in her husband's eyes and knew that they owed the Harpers loyalty for what they had done for Nashkel . . . _but was it worth the lives of herself and Berrun? _Her bottom lip was shaking as she answered. "B-Beregost! They went to Beregost!" She blurted, praying to every god she ever heard of.

Both creatures looked at each other and nodded. One of them tore the mayor's head from his shoulders. Blood spurted up from the severed neck in gouts that splashed the creature's matted fur. Delilah screamed her husband's name and flailed against her captor but it did not good. The one that had decapitated her husband drew closer to her now. Delilah felt a horrible pain at the back of her neck but before she realized what it was she felt the cold grip of death in her bones and the pain was no more.

High above the now blood soaked earth, the full moon looked down on the scene. The two creatures stared up at it, caught in some kind of trance until a cloud passed across the light. With jaws wide open they both howled up at it, the awful noise echoing through the still darkness.

* * *

**15'th of Kythorn (**_**present**_**)**

Lord Anomen Delryn couldn't believe that the Order had been stuck in the backwater town of Beregost because of _bandits_. He thought how easy it should have been for the Order to go out and find the ruffians that were so badly plaguing the Sword Coast but once they'd tried it became obvious how impossible it was . . . and also perhaps why no one else had succeeded in stopping the problem either. The bandits were attacking in small groups, continually moving what served as their base camp, and were unbelievably good at covering their tracks. More than a few people had suggested infiltration but even Anomen knew that none within the company of knights was very good at such deception. He thought about the brutality of the attacks and his mind conjured images of sadism and debasement that would likely be found at the highwaymen's temporary sanctuary. No one who had sworn themselves to the edicts of the Order could so easily dismiss such atrocities long enough to pretend to be one of the villain's company. For once Anomen realized that assistance needed to be found outside of the Order, but he'd be thrice damned and roasted in the deepest of the Hells before he'd admit it.

So here they were, camped just outside the town and trying to work with the little local law enforcement that there was. Such a task was difficult for more than one reason. Rumors of war had become enflamed and the gossipmongers of Beregost ran amuck with any 'news' they picked up. Anomen had briefly considered how much trouble he would get into if he strangled the town crier, though those thoughts eventually subsided.

The Order of the Most Radiant Heart was not the only contingent stuck without means of _safe_ travel. A small deputation of the Flaming Fist, a guardsmen association under the control of the Grand Dukes of Baldur's Gate, found themselves stranded due to a highly irregular risk of being burgled and likely murdered along the Coast Way. They spoke of the men that accosted them having possession of foul potions to knock even the strongest of the Fist unconscious. As absurd as it seemed it was the same issue that the Knights of the Order were having. All trained men, many having several years of experience fighting against things far more horrible than brigands, and yet every time they tried to leave their numbers were growing smaller. Picked apart by common ruffians, though some of the elder knights had already begun to suspect that they were dealing with highly _irregular_ enemies. Anomen hadn't been campaigning nearly as long as the elders but he agreed with that. What _regular_ thieves had such powerful enchanted potions at their disposal? Not only had the Order fallen to potent potions of sleep but insidious paralytics as well.

Right now Sir Armand was speaking to a surly red headed woman calling herself 'Officer Jessa Vai' Glaring glances set askance around the Order's members that were resting in the main room of the Jovial Juggler; seeming to have collected around Jessa Vai's table. The low speech of herself and Sir Armand gave the feeling of two adversaries sending one another sneaky threats. Anomen shifted from foot to foot as he leaned against the bar, a tavern maid walking past him for the third time in a row without asking him if he wanted to order. _Damn northerners!_ Irritatingly she sauntered up to a table of Flaming Fist officers as soon as they sat down, taking their orders with a smile. As she went back to retrieve their drinks she had the audacity to sneer at Anomen. He could hardly wait until they were back in Athkatla and away from this gods-forsaken stretch of land.

"I've heard tell that a small band of mercenaries opened up the Nashkel mines again. Funny isn't it, that a few 'adventurers' can accomplish something that a whole slew of _your_ soldiers cannot." The woman snickered, taking a swig of a drink that Anomen was sure she'd been asked if she wanted right away. The judgment of the citizen's of Beregost didn't seem to be in the favor of anyone that even looked _slightly_ Amnish.

Sir Armand glared back, but held his decorum. "My dear woman, insulting me isn't going to help the situation . . . and they aren't _my soldiers_, they are citizens of the great Amn. Just as I am. They are not even soldiers at all . . . they are knights!" He paused and rubbed at his throbbing head, realizing that being so argumentative wasn't going to get him anywhere and Officer Vai wasn't likely to be the first one to back down. Clearing his throat the senior knight tried again. "I am speaking with you to try and find a solution. Our contingent has been stuck here for far too long and we've lost _five_ men to common _brigands_. I've never even heard of any banditry organized enough to hide from and pick off men from under the watchful eyes of an entire contingent. Surely you must know _something_, being local as you are."

Taking another drink the Flaming Fist officer acted as if he hadn't even spoken and when the aging knight went to speak again she held out a finger and waved it in his face. "You think that my men and I have stayed here because we are too lazy to get up and do something?" A deeply saddened look came into her face and she took a moment to compose herself before she continued. "_I've_ lost men too . . . And far more than five!"

A sweaty rotund man came barreling into the inn then, knocking over a few misplaced stools with his stumbling footfalls. With hands braced on his knees and a face the shade of a tomato. Armand briefly wondered if he might not faint dead away where he stood. After a deep lungful of air, however, the fat man managed to speak, bright brown eyes glittering with excitement. "They's here they is! Heard tell them Harpers from Nashkel got themselves a sickly lass with 'em. Took her to see 'ole Keldath they did! They's here in town, Gurke done said they was staying here at the Juggler . . . but young Miss Templeton over at Feldepost's saw 'em going up to the rooms . . . lookin' like they was after Bane hisself they did! Somethin's afoot it is!"

_Well it certainly can't be_ that _exciting!_ Sir Armand thought unkindly before addressing the issue of the 'news' that they had just been precipitously presented with. "Whatever business any Harpers might have here in town is just that; _their_ business. Do not burden us with gossip mongering, we've had enough of that already. Bring some news of a way to find the bandits that are effectively lowering the population of the Sword Coast. _That_ would be news!"

"Put a cork in it you blowhard! I told Lawrence here to bring me notice when the Harpers arrived. You want a solution to the banditry? _They_ could be it." Officer Vai snorted. Sir Armand was so affronted that he didn't know how to respond and instead choose to sit back in his seat.

_This is why women do not belong in a contingent of fighters. In trying to prove themselves as tough as the men they've completely lost their sense of decorum. Only the shield maidens of the Order could claim to still hold onto their propriety. _Anomen wanted to say something to the rude woman, but the place was full of hostility already. Having had enough of the less-than-friendly atmosphere he decided on talking a walk to the local smith. If he was stuck in town with little to occupy himself (but a seemingly useless strategy detail every morning) then the very least he could do was have the quality of his weapons checked.

* * *

He'd been caught unawares, though not entirely unprepared. Tranzig wasn't a master wizard yet but he also wasn't a fool. It'd been awhile since he'd heard anything from that horse's ass, Mulahey, and the rumors of 'the liberation of the Nashkel iron mine' had begun to float into Beregost. _I was almost out! So close!_ The mage thought, having nearly been all packed and ready to leave Feldepost's, more than positive that someone would find his name among some sort of communicative letters and come looking for him. Mulahey hadn't been smart enough to burn them. Unfortunately for Tranzig he hadn't packed quite soon enough.

"I will not ask again, fiend!" A tall blonde man yelled, brown eyes boring into the wizard as he held him trembling against one wall of the rented room.

With a blade point pressed against his torso Tranzig was beginning to think he'd have to choose how he died. Either Tazok would kill him for squealing or this group would kill him now. He could recognize the druid's nature from her oak staff and the incantations she'd made. Also among them was a young archer with nervous eyes but a sure grip on her bow, a huge giant of a warrior, a curvaceous mage, a half-elf fighter wielding a mean looking long blade and lastly the likely-paladin that was holding him at bay. Evidence of their struggle was clear in the broken furniture and pieces of burned fabric on Tranzig's person. The female mage grinned at her handiwork as the blonde held the wizard ever tighter against the wall.

_I could scream for help! I could say they attacked me! It would be the truth at least!_ Then again he had a feeling that two amongst this small rabble were the Harpers that he'd heard rumors about. The ones that'd saved the mine. If that was the case they would be quite used to that sort of thing. If the guards even _bothered_ to come up here, there was little doubt that a group of 'valiant heroes' could easily sway their minds into thinking Tranzig was the villain. Hells, the inn's few guards might even be suspicious of that already. Feldepost's owner must have thought it a bit strange that the wizard had been holed up in his room for so long; he'd sent someone to check on Tranzig thrice over in the past two weeks.

"What do you know about the bandit raids? What connection do they have to the ore that was tainted in Nashkel? Who is your superior and where would we find him?!" The blonde yelled again, joined by the druid at his side whose violet eyes burned holes through Tranzig.

"Many good _innocent_ citizens have perished because of the actions of your kind of filth. Don't believe for a moment that I'd have regrets about removing _you_ from existence." She hissed and the beautiful mage that was closer to the door nodded.

Fingers crackled with magical energy and a devious smile was on the witch's face. "Tis true. Perhaps though if thou will tell us of what we inquire thou _might_ live another day of thee miserable existence." A Rashemi lilt heavy in her hostility.

"I-I don't know! Letters! I've been communicating with letters. There, in my rucksack!" He motioned to the a large burlap sack on the bed, easing back from his hand movements when Ajantis pushed him harder against the wall. "Alright, alright!" Khalid emptied the bag onto the bedspread, a few jars of rare powders spilling open. Tranzig winced. "Come on! Do you have to do that?"

Ajantis growled at the simpering wizard. "Consider yourself lucky that is all that we are doing."

Tranzig knew that he would get few more chances, with the blonde's attention momentarily focused on the items the Calimshite half-elf was dumping on the bedspread. One of them Tazok had told Tranzig was magically trapped. The fledgling wizard had been given the command words for it. Despite the chaos he had been presented with he still recalled them with ease.

All Ajantis heard was Imoen's warning shout of 'look out!' and then he was engulfed in bright light and smoke. Coughing through the haze he waved a hand in front of him, searching frantically for the mage he'd lost his grip on in the confusion. "Where is Tranzig?!" He shouted, instantly sent into hacking coughs. "Where did he go?!"

Finally when the room cleared the group looked around at each other, Khalid holding the remnants of a small container. "I-I thought his l-letters might be in this." The clasped top creaked and fell open, the rest of it nearly gone from the small 'light burst' magical trap that had been set upon it. The half gold-elf coughed out his next words. "R-rotten fetcher g-got away didn't he?"

Dynaheir nodded solemnly. "Tis true I am afraid. I can taste the energy of his dimensional portal. We would all be unable to follow his trail, being unprepared for it as we were." Her words rang of truth and Ajantis hung his head in defeat.

"We have to try!" Imoen cried out,

"And how do we do that?! He's gone!" Jaheira rounded about to face the girl, the anger in her eyes focusing on an ill fated foot stool. "Damn, damn DAMN!" The druid yelled, kicking the stool to crash against the wall and into pieces.

"J-Jaheira calm down d-darling. He didn't g-get away with t-this letter. That's _something_." Khalid offered and smiled as his voice calmed his wife's rattled nerves.

"I would not have believed one of his ilk could have accessed and performed such a spell." Leaning against her silver quarter staff for support, Dynaheir kneeled down to the floor near Ajantis. She felt his eyes on her and smiled, a pleasant warmth in her belly at his attention when it came at the oddest of times. Running her fingers across a smudge on the rug she crinkled her nose. "This . . . the cinders of a scroll. Connected to the trap within yon container, perhaps. Thee imbecile must have had it on his person. I would doubt _that one _could tame such magika on his own." Standing again she patted Minsc's arm affectionately, the giant berserker eyeing her with concern. The unspoken question of Dynaheir's well being was frequently at the forefront of Minsc's mind, even when all she was doing was running her fingers through dust, and the Wychlaran answered it with a friendly nod.

"Master Khalid . . . dost thou see a mentioning within thee letter of a personage named Ten Hammer?" Memory flitted through Dynaheir's thoughts. Though she had felt near death while held captive by the gnolls she was not entirely without her wits. She had heard one of them saying they were saving her for someone named 'Ten Hammer' Though the gnoll had also mentioned that there was a bigger boss involved. So far the Wychlaran had seen little to suggest that either Mulahey or Tranzig were _major_ players in the poisoning of the iron ore. More like lackeys desperate or simple-minded enough to do their master's bidding without much thought.

Jaheira drew an older letter from _her_ small pack, taken from the depths of the Nashkel mines, still wrinkling her nose at the odor that had permeated the papyrus. "There was no 'Ten Hammer' mentioned in _this_ one . . . only a 'Tazok' Kivan's reaction to that name back in Nashkel . . . Perhaps this is the leader we are looking for."

"Y-yes, yes! That n-name repeats here!" Khalid spoke excitedly, the sound of the linen paper crinkling in his hands filling the room. He began to read the latest discovered letter, the stutter he normally had seeming to calm somewhat when reading words off a page.

"**T-Tranzig, that fool Mulahey has botched our p-plans. Leave Feldepost's soon. W-watch out for stone e-eaters in Larswood. S-some p-pathetic red robes have taken up residence in P-Peldsvale. Meet Ardenor with the p-password 'cloak' you know the spot.**

**Destroy this n-note as s-soon as you have mem-memorized it.**

**Tazok."**

"Stone eaters? Red robes? What on Toril . . . but Larswood and Peldsvale, I know those names. Some of the hunters that were staying at the Friendly Arm had mentioned a few of their best spots were in those glades." Ajantis' face was bright in his hope. Though Tranzig had gotten away before they could get any answers from him, their time had not been wasted after all.

"Red robes?" Dynaheir's amber eyes narrowed as she shared a dark look with Minsc. "This Wychlaran knows of _them_." Her words were waspish and thin, eyes just as contracted now.

Minsc nodded his head, anger in his own blue gaze. "My witch and her sisters have been hunted many times by red robes. The evil little Edwin is the worst. We were hiding out from him when fair Dynaheir was taken by the ugly gnolls. Bah! Minsc did not want to hide, but my witch insisted. Boo would like to bite his fingers off. No more spells _then_, I tell you this!" He remarked with sincerity.

"Tis a shortened title for thy Red Wizards of Thay." Dynaheir spat.

"_Thayvians? _Why would they be taking residence on the Sword Coast?" Jaheira asked aloud, her quick witted mind already forming some ideas. At first she thought they might be the wizards that were helping the bandits. Certainly they would be capable of using the potions and enchantments she'd come across when they'd fought some of the brigands off. But no, if that were true it wasn't likely that this 'Tazok' would warn Tranzig to stay clear . . . then again, not all comrades were friendly ones. Some allegiances were tentative at best. Her gaze traveled to the Rashemites then, of whose allegiance seemed whole hearted, but neither of them had shared that they'd had a Red Wizard on their trail before now.

"The filth of Thay send out small parties on occasion. Tis thy way of testing them. I know not of thy inner workings of red wizards, but I have come to an understanding that they must hold an area under their control for a specified amount of time. Killing all that near their location." Dynaheir's explanation came with the rapid fire of one that had long studied an enemy, and her voice held just as much venom to suggest such study.

"You s-should have told us about this b-before now. We should h-have known if you were b-being h-hunted. Especially if i-it is a red wizard after you. It c-could endanger the g-group." Khalid criticized. It was proving a task already to protect the sisters, he didn't need any more worries on his plate. Especially not after what had happened to Kivan and Lilliana.

"Tis the concern of myself and the good Minsc. Twas no business of thou to be informed of it. We need not the coddling of guardians. Minsc and I can take care of thy selves and keep our problems from the rest of thee." She responded defensively

"Yes it would seem that you can keep things from the rest of us quite well." Jaheira sniped, sending angry sparks at the Wychlaran. It only proved what the druid had thought since they'd taken the two Rashemites on. They hardly knew either of them, and while Minsc had a very easy demeanor his anger made him dangerous. The only person to soothe the savage beast that was the berserkers rage was Dynaheir. Jaheira felt that she knew the mage even less and still didn't trust her.

"Ladies . . . perhaps we can save this discussion for later? Unless of course we are staying in Tranzig's room for tonight. Lilliana and Kivan might be back at the Jovial Juggler already and I'm sure they will want to know what we have found." Diffusing tension wasn't something Ajantis was particularly skilled at but they both knew he was right, even if neither of them liked being talked down.

Dynaheir sighed, putting a hand on Ajantis arm. "Thou is correct, good knight. We shall go forth to the place of our rest and drink. Everyone may feel better with absent friends returned to us."

Minsc felt warmed by the words of his witch. Dynaheir was so wise and understanding. He was proud to be her guardian and always and forever her champion. A hand strayed up to his nose. The pretty cleric at the temple of Lathander had done a good job setting the break for him, and Boo had also said she was flirting with Minsc but the ranger didn't know what his companion meant by that, but the area around his nose and its tip still felt awfully sensitive to the touch. He wondered if Miss Lily would kiss it for him to make it better. Now that Mayor Keldath said she would be getting back to her normal self Minsc was more than sure that the young cleric could kiss any injury to make it better. Nice girls always could.

"Let's check the fetcher's room further first. I'd hate to miss anything because we rushed off, not too long though. We don't have the funds to pay for the damages caused here." Jaheira looked about her solemnly, her husband nodding his head as he gathered together the items of Tranzig's pack.

"Y-yes. Y-you are quite correct my dear. S-someone w-will come check s-soon, I think. S-so we must hurry." Khalid added. He couldn't believe someone as obviously simplistic as Tranzig had managed to elude them. Even more so considering the near effortlessness of the escape. The items he dumped on the bedspread were nothing fantastic. Reaching for what looked like a money bag he quickly pulled his hand back, finger bleeding as he seethed.

"What is it?!" Came Jaheira's concerned response to her husband's curses of pain. When the druid drew closer she saw a small trail of crimson running down the side of Khalid's hand. Taking a look at her husband's hand she smirked at him. "Bah! It is nothing but a shallow cut. Stop babying it."

The offender was a broken potion bottle. Imoen came over to pick it up, gingerly handling the sharp shards to avoid getting nicked. The smaller cuts always seemed to sting the most. "'Potion of Mirrored Eyes' that's what this label says, though whoever wrote it has messier handwritin' than even _I_ do. These other bottles . . . same stuff. Man! Tranzig had a lot'o these buggers!" The milky liquid inside sloshed a little and caught the light in the room, bouncing back onto Imoen's face. "Looks gross! Anyone know what they're for anyway?"

"Protection against stone spells if I recall. The Order has had to use them before against nests of gorgons." Ajantis supplied, playing lookout at the doorway. The knight didn't much care to leave the room such a mess and not compensate the owner, but he had little choice. 'Decent finances' were not words that currently could be attached to this rag-tag bunch in any manner.

Something inside the knight had almost yearned for a fight and he hated to admit that to himself, hated to admit that there was a disappointment abound when Tranzig proved to be a cowardly milksop. Being that as it was it burned Ajantis up even more that such a wastrel had escaped justice . . . for now. At least they had gleamed some information before the mageling had pulled his disappearing act. Though it wasn't much. He sighed and shifted, the wood of the doorway creaking under the strain of his muscular weight.

He'd seen his fellow knights here in town, stuck on account of bandits. Speaking with a few of them he knew the problem was a lot worse than it had been but a mere week ago. Maybe after the Harpers had opened the Nashkel Mines the bandits had gotten more desperate. Most of the group had come to the conclusion that the raids and the ore poisoning were connected, long before they'd seen letters suggesting such. Ajantis wondered what the Amnish Order members thought of him traveling with freelance mercenaries, Harpers at that. More than a few times whilst in town he'd pondered joining up with the Order stuck in Beregost, but they had no current quests. There was good work being done within the circle of his companions, the tall blonde knew there was, but he couldn't help the feeling that his honor was being tested the longer he stayed with the group. _To cause damage to a room and not have anything to give the innkeeper for restitution? _No, Ajantis did not like that at all.

"Gorgons? Please do explain sir knight." Always inquisitive and curious, Dynaheir stood behind him, the floral scent of her light powders wafting into Ajantis' nostrils.

_Then again, there were things besides honor._ Ajantis smiled, a pleasant tingling in his belly whenever Dynaheir favored him with a glance. It felt foolish and immature to be so attracted to someone so different from himself. The knight was reminded of his adolescence, the days when 'different' meant 'exotic' which by proxy made him interested. Such escapades never lasted and in his maturity he'd come to find himself longing for something more substantial. A pretty lady, eyes full of love, to come home to after a long campaign. Children to wrap themselves around his legs. But the Order was his love and the citizens he saved gave as much adoration as children likely would. He found himself nervous and unsure with his attraction to the beautiful Wychlaran, but he pushed through it as always. Pride seemed to negate his nerves.

"Gorgons. Lower level half-fiends, exclusively female, like succubae. They don't seduce their prey for the life essence in the same way as a succubus though. Instead they turn their 'intended' into stone and suck the minerals from the rock of the petrified victim." Ajantis explained, the two speaking as the others looked about the room.

"Yuck, I never realized there were so many nasty things out in the world." Imoen added from where she was looking through desk drawers. Nimble fingers held up a few bags of powdered ingredients. Giving them a once over she shrugged her shoulders and plopped them into an ever growing supply on the desk's surface. Turning bright green eyes Ajantis' way, the merry light in those orbs was easy to see.

"Could those be the stone-eaters in the letter, ya think?!" Imoen's words bubbled out, face alight with pride for her own quick wits.

"It very well could be yes." Ajantis smiled down at her fondly. There was a returning blush in the girl's cheeks that pleased the older man to see. Jealousy wasn't something that suited young Imoen, and he had rather hoped she'd find a way past it on her own. Ajantis knew he couldn't talk her down from it, he was awful at sensitive discussion, especially concerning young girls with an affection for his personage.

"Have you gathered all thee ingredients there? I have a spare scroll bag I can lend you if you would like. I hardly have need of it whilst traveling afar from my sisterhood. It shall keep yon ingredients safe and perhaps I will see if any of them can be used." Dynaheir offered, quick to try and hold on to the tentative peace she had made with Imoen.

Smiling the red head nodded. "Yeah, that'd be great . . . thanks."

* * *

They had burned the horrible spider silk gown Lilliana had been wearing and she could not hold back the relieved sigh at the news. Certainly after all that happened such a thing should have been of very minimal importance but not to an arachnophobe. She thought about that as Kivan and herself passed by an abandoned home. On their previous stay in Beregost there had been whisperings that the owner had fled due to an infestation of giant spiders. Lilliana had made a quick decision to file such information away where she might just 'forget' to mention it to her companions. At that time Jaheira and Khalid had been most insistent upon reaching Nashkel but the cleric didn't want to risk them deciding to investigate for possible reward money. Even after two substantial rewards within a month (one for dispatching Bassilus and another for clearing out the Nashkel mines of it's iron-ore-poisoning visitors) the group as a whole was always on the lookout for honestly earned funding.

_'Lilliana Avalon. Guilty of omitting the truth, and costing her companions gold, for the sake of her personal comfort. My, my . . . what would Gorion think of that?'_

The whispered words made her whip around, but Kivan was only looking forward and she was certain he hadn't said anything. She shook her head, sure that she must have been mentally chastising herself. Far ahead of them the voice of the town crier rang out loud and clear, his audience the noon day foot traffic.

"Hear ye, hear ye! The headless bodies of Mayor Berrun Ghatskill and his wife were found most brutally mangled. Is Amn to blame? The Grand Dukes have issued a warning barring any citizens of Amnish lands from crossing north past the boundaries of Nashkel until their innocence can be ascertained. Did the Council have Mayor Ghatskill murdered for assisting Harpers in their efforts to save the Sword Coast from those seeking to destroy it's tranquility?! Duke Eltan is requesting a meeting with the Council, forthwith! Hear ye, hear ye!" The crier began anew, citizens already gossiping waspishly amongst themselves.

"My gods!" Lilliana wailed, looking up at Kivan. "I heard rumors of war brewing with Amn in Nashkel but I didn't think . . .murdered?" The sentence had been a fragmented one, as broken up as the cleric's current thought process. "Decapitated even? Oh, ghastly! Why it . . . it has to be the bandit leader that had Mayor Ghatskill murdered. Don't they know that it has to be the bandits? Nashkel is _within _the province of Amn. The Council of Amn wouldn't . . . they wouldn't just kill honorable citizens like Berrun and Delilah Ghatskill, just for helping us . . . would they?"

"I do not know Lilliana. Come along. There isn't anything for it." Kivan motioned his companion onward, not complaining when she took his arm with her hands. She kept becoming distracted by those that whispered at the pair from their stoops, a few had the audacity to point. Beregost had not been nearly as suspicious of outsiders the last time Kivan had been within the town's limits. Soon the Jovial Juggler came into view, its main doors obscured from view by a litter of people.

"Here we are." Voiced the ranger at the girl's side and she gave him a wan smile in return. Earlier in the day their other companions had left notice at the Temple of the Morning Song that they were going to find Tranzig today, confirming what Imoen has said in her visit to Kivan. Lilliana and Kivan were told they could meet the others at the Juggler if they were well enough to be released from care that morning. A letter had also been left by Xan, explaining that he had taken his leave of the group no doubt, as mentioned in the letter penned by Jaheira's hand. Lilliana had thought it best to read Xan's letter to the group, and he hadn't made any notations on the parchment envelope to suggest it was a private correspondence.

The cleric had not seen her companions yet, and felt full of a mixed dread and anticipation. She must have been in truly bad shape if Keldath had allowed Kivan visitors, but not _her_. Lilliana was sure that Imoen would have wanted to come and see her but also doubly sure that Jaheira would have wanted to find the wayward wizard before he managed to get away from them. Mistress Kostas was a tough woman, with tough rules and oft times rough ways but Lilliana found that perhaps their rag tag bunch required such guidance.

A large and weather-worn sign depicted a human with a ridiculous hat on his head, painted bells dangling beside a silly and obviously inebriated face. The words 'Jovial Juggler' were in standard red print beneath it. Lilliana remembered the place. Garrick, the bard that Imoen had been momentarily sweet on had been playing there. Within those walls was also the memory of when Kivan and Lilliana's kidnapper had asked for a seemingly innocent dance. A shudder ran through the half high-elf's frame, but she braced her shoulders and started up the short steps. For all the simplicity that such an action was, walking into a inn nothing monumental, she felt as if she had to coerce herself to open the door. A chorus of merged voices wafted out, along with the scent of meat roasting on a pit. Kivan nudged her, questioning her with his eyes when the girl had stood there too long.

"Lilliana? Are you alright?" Obvious concern laced through his words and the immediate lack of response from his companion did little to quell such worry.

Several long breaths of air and a few moments later she nodded her head, though the action, and the response that followed, seemed more directed at herself. "I am fine. Come. Surely they are waiting impatiently for us." Already her stomach was making knots before the two had even come in view of the others.

"Oh! Sorry! Excuse us." She found herself apologizing to a tall young man that had been ready to exit the building. Stumbling into him the cleric had been forced into staying herself with a hand near the man's elbow. Kivan had already moved into the inn proper but Lilliana had been caught in her tracks by a vivid blue gaze. The young man had a noble's face, handsomely chiseled and yet almost boyish. Intensely struck by the feeling of familiarity she searched his face as if trying to conjure some bit of memory, not even realizing that the pair of them were blocking the doorway. Keenly aware of the hand that was on his arm, she shied away. She was about to ask his name when someone cleared their throat, sounding quite irritated, behind her and she apologized again and stepped to the side.

"It is no trouble my lady. Pardon me." The young man excused himself in a rich Amnian accent as he too moved out of the way of traffic and out into the daylight.

He glanced back into the doorway and for that brief moment it seemed as if Lilliana's heartbeat may have slowed to such a degree that it stopped, but then the view between them was broken by others entering the building and the feeling was lost. She felt tempted to dash to window, watch the man as he walked down the street but her common sense returned fully and she shook her head. _Idiot girl! What's the matter with you?_ Her conscious sounded an awfully lot like Jaheira just then and Lilliana smirked.

Kivan called her away from her thoughts and further into the room to an empty table. The ranger was in desperate need of a drink, the memory of the taste of the medicine he'd taken nearly as awful as if he were ingesting it right then. He touched Lilliana's shoulder gently, murmuring his intentions and heading for the bar. She nodded her head and took a seat.

With her companion away it gave her a moment to immerse herself in the ebb and flow of the Jovial Juggler. It was late in the noon day and the inn was crowded as it normally might be, with local workers taking a mid-day break for their meal but even more so Lilliana took notice of all the armed men in the place. Usually the innkeeper didn't want such blatantly displayed weaponry inside his building, but likely the sheer number of equipped men today had made him ignore his own rules. A few of them were even wearing armor, looking tired and drawn as if they'd returned from long scouting missions. One woman stood out to her by contrast, seated at a table with others sharing her type of attire. The large flaming curled fist on the front of their tunics sealed their identification. Among them were others, some in simple clothing while some had lovely kits, looking nearly freshly polished. The hostility between the two factions was as oppressive as heat had Lilliana been standing in front of a fire.

"I nearly had to offer the barkeep my _soul _to get this. I'm not exactly sure why the distrust of the Amnish extends to those of elf-kind . . . though I'm not surprised by war mongering mixing with racism. There is a contingent of Radiant Heart knights here along with a lot of Flaming Fist. A few people were even placing bets on what group would take the first swing in what the locals determine to be an inevitable conflict. Taking a look around this place I'm likened to agree." Kivan sat down with his drink and took a place beside a puzzled Lilliana.

"The Order? What would they be doing _here_ I wonder?"

"Stuck in town. Both them and the Flaming Fist are complaining of their numbers being picked off by bandits. At least that is what I overheard from two caravan masters at the bar." Kivan leaned back in his seat, feeling awkward seated alone beside Lilliana. More than a few eyes turned their way, looking wary of their obvious non-human lineage. Hard oak pressed against his backside and he fidgeted. His companion looked to be sharing that feeling. It wasn't something the ranger was used to. He'd hardened himself against noticing what others thought of him, but then he had never been eyed with such open enmity by so _many_ locals before now.

"I feel as if we do not belong here. . ." The cleric let her eyes roam around the room, waiting for a response from the ranger. She nearly jumped from her seat when her name was _shrieked _from across the room.

Imoen spotted her sister's blue-black tresses easily and shouted her name, running at full force toward her sibling. Lilliana's body jumped and she gave her own shout of surprise as Imoen hugged her, nearly bowling the two of them over and the chair along with them. The red head placed a flurry of kisses on the half-elf's face. "Lil! Lil! Lil!" Imoen almost had the ridiculous feeling that if she didn't repeat Lilliana's name that the girl might just disappear. "I almost didn't . . . I thought you might not be well yet. Oh! I wanted to go see ya this mornin' so _bad_. That ole' harpy wouldn't let me though, all about going after Tranzig! Pfah! Lil! Oh Lil!"

"Imoen . . . you're crushing me!" Lilliana admonished, not really meaning it. Imoen loosened up but still had an arm around her sister's shoulders, pulling up another chair next to her adopted sibling. There was an apprehension in Lilliana's frame, a flicker of memory moving across her subconscious. In the imagery her mind produced she saw with unfortunate clarity her hands around Imoen's throat choking the life out of her. When she looked into red head's eyes _now_ however, there was naught but relief and affection there. "It would have been nice had Kivan and I been released from care earlier, though. I would've liked to speak with Tranzig personally." A cloud of worry passed across the cleric's pale face. "I hope you didn't _kill _him . . . did you?"

"Heh. Same 'ole Lil. Puss bucket coulda' massacred an orphanage and still, righteous Lil would wanna see him brought to 'proper' justice. Naw . . . we didn't kill him. Didn't get the chance to. He got away, though I'm not really sure how he pulled that off so quick." She trailed off, looking behind her toward the doorway. Imoen knew she shouldn't have run ahead of the others but her worry over Lilliana had her on a tension more taut then the string of her short bow. Minsc's large frame filled the doorway, letting very little daylight through and the rest of the companions filtered in behind him. Kivan and Lilliana followed the girl's gaze to their comrades that had just entered the inn.

"Lilliana!" Ajantis' voice was full of a warmth and joy that was matched in his brown eyes. He stopped short before he reached the table, looking over the cleric's seated form. "You seem . . ."

"Prettier?" Kivan offered, hands around his mug as he smiled over at the half-high elf, who expectedly shied away from the attention she was being paid. "She does doesn't she? Then again, the last 'I' saw her before waking up at the temple, she wasn't in her best form." He amended and nearly felt the relief in Lilliana's frame at a logical explanation. She certainly wouldn't believe she'd just gotten more attractive during her healing.

"Yes, quite." Ajantis agreed, though whether it was Lilliana's slightly improved aesthetics or with the statement of the horrid appearance she previously had, no one was sure. Lilliana turned an uncomfortable shade of red under the knight's gaze nonetheless.

Dynaheir and Minsc followed the tall blonde over, the berserker moving to embrace the much smaller Kivan. "My fellow ranger! Boo laments that you couldn't confront the foul wizard with us . . . and he got away too! Do not worry though, little elf, we will find him again _and_ his master!" The bald giant had a hand held to his chest as if giving a sermon. Kivan expected that for Minsc that _was_ very much a speech.

The wood-elf knew that Minsc was more a berserker than a ranger, but it was something the Rashemite aspired too and had even procured himself an animal companion; albeit an odd one. Kivan smiled as he was hugged, still something he was highly unused too. He suspected if he'd rejected the affectionate embrace that Minsc would be thoroughly offended and an offended Minsc wasn't something he felt like dealing with today. "Of that I am sure my large cohort ." His forest-hued eyes traveled over to the Harpers where they had been caught by a red-headed female Flaming Fist officer.

Dynaheir followed the direction of the companion's gazes and nodded her head knowingly. "Yes, tis some arrangement yon Harpists are making. Thee woman there addressed herself as Officer Vai upon our entrance. The druid motioned the rest of us along so her and her husband could commence a discourse with thee officer."

The Wychlaran's oddly formal speech had become a lot more smooth than what Lilliana seemed to recall, though her own memories were not as clear and concise as she would've liked them to have been. The stunning mage turned to the table and she smiled warmly.

"With our two missing gems polished and back within thee jewelry box of their companions we are made better. Tis well to see you both again and looking so lovely."

Kivan only 'harrumphed' in disbelief. Knowing that 'lovely' was never a word used to describe _him_. Handsome, he'd gotten that one before, but 'lovely'? No.

"Boo would like you to hold him, Miss Lily. He missed you." Minsc offered up the tiny hamster and Lilliana took him happily, giggling in child-like enjoyment as the soft creature curled himself in her palm and squeaked. The large berserker looked shy as he glanced down at the half-high elf. "Minsc also would like Miss Lily to . . well . . . maybe you could kiss my nose?"

Embarrassment was prevalent on Minsc's broad face and Lilliana grinned up at him as he leaned down on level with her face. Guilt burned hot in her cheeks, but it would seem that Minsc held no ill will. "Most certainly Master Minsc." She pressed her lips gently against his nose, and giggled at the loud sigh of contentment he made.

"Ah ha! It is feeling better already!" The berserker boomed, Jaheira's voice coming at his back as he whipped around to face the druid.

"A pity she can't kiss your throat and repair the volume of your voice." Jaheira responded dryly, taking in all the companions around the table. Lilliana had stood, as if feeling guilty to be caught relaxing after being in bed so long. The Harper waved the girl down, commanding her to take a seat again. She did.

"Thou Harper is most unfriendly to be the only one choosing a quest for our group to embark upon." The Wychlaran nodded her head in the direction of Officer Vai. Temperament unimproved after her snipes with Jaheira earlier. Dynaheir grumbled at the half-elf now.

Oddly enough Jaheira nodded. "That is true, despite your rude delivery. That is why we should discuss it later in the privacy of our quarters." Violet eyes peered around the room, daring those staring at her to make a move. 'Hostile' did not even come close to describing the environment in which the group now found themselves. "Now doesn't seem to be the time or place. Far too many ears listening in." As if proving her point a tall man approached their table.

"Beregost is not a friendly place for those of the south." A heavily accented voice came from the mouth of a man that was quite obviously southern. "I am Sir Armand, of the Order of the Most Radiant Heart. Amnish chapter. You look to be Tethyrian, is that so?" When Jaheira proffered her hand in greeting the man took it to lay a kiss upon its surface, eliciting a shrewd glare from Khalid.

The Calimshite half-elf moved to shake the knight's hand. Though when he stood to his full height he was a few shoulders short of the man's vertical reach. "I am M-Master Khalid Kostas and t-this is m-my wife, Mistress Jaheira Kostas." He addressed, forcing himself to try and speak more clearly through his inherent stutter. Khalid proceeded to introduce the rest of the group, and confirmed his beloved's Tethyrian origins.

"Yes, well I am pleased to meet you all. You must forgive me for intruding on you and your companions, Master Kostas," Sir Armand had paid no heed to the half-elf's stutter and continued as if Khalid were the leader of the group. "But I happened to see you speaking with Officer Vai and I feel it my duty to make your acquaintance. Also I seek to ask if the good officer spoke to you of the problems with the local banditry."

Jaheira had been ready for this intrusion ever since she had seen some of the other knights eyeing their discourse with Jessa Vai with more than mild curiosity. The druid smiled unflinchingly at the older man. "We have yet to even speak with our _own_ companions over the issue at hand. I hardly think . . ." She began only to find that Sir Armand's full attention was on Khalid.

"Master Kostas, I have heard that Officer Vai seeks to have the bandits scalped and is willing to pay those willing to hunt them down for such a 'service'." Armand continued, turning to look at Lilliana when he heard her gasp of revulsion

"Scalped?! She wants the scalps to be _cut off_ in return for _payment_?! How horrible!" Her eyes were wide as saucers, Imoen sharing her look of disgust.

Armand smiled kindly at the girls, thinking them both far too young to be traveling with adventuring Harpers. He was immediately reminded of his young granddaughters and felt self-reproach at having brought up something like scalping in front of them. "I apologize dear ladies, I should not have said such so openly,"

"No, that is alright Sir, we've unfortunately seen worse than that." Lilliana informed him, in as polite a tone as she could muster. In front of one with a noble background Lilliana's own upbringing as a lady of court came back to her. She held her head straight, hands folded in her lap as the knight nodded, turning back to Khalid awaiting the half-elf's answer.

Khalid was careful with his next words, not only to try and control his stutter but to avoid being overheard by the Juggler's patrons, many of whom had tried to stealthily listen in to the conversation already. From what the Harper had seen and heard around town he was more than certain the townsfolk were waiting for any excuse to start hurling conspiracy theories around. "Well, y-yes. She did speak a-about t-that but we t-told her we w-would have t-to t-talk it over with our c-companions."

"You _are_ the ones that liberated the Nashkel Mine then?" Armand queried, smiling when Khalid nodded, and not noticing Jaheira glaring at his back. "Many people believe you can find the camp these brigands have set up . . . can you?" There was more than just a question in Sir Armand's eyes.

"If we already knew we couldn't just tell everyone. They'd start some kind of manhunt, get themselves killed or worse and likely scare the bandits off in the process, making them move their main camp . . . if they even have one. We are as yet unsure if that is the case." Jaheira cleared her throat, her voice lowering as several heads turned her way.

"Ah yes, of course . . . but do you think you can find them?" He asked again, taking Jaheira's words into account this time.

"It is possible, yes." Ajantis spoke from where he had remained quiet through the short dialogue. Dynaheir sent the knight a sidelong glance, unsure if she trusted Armand's motives for questioning them. Ajantis pushed ahead. "We met one that we believe is working with the bandits and we have a few locations we can begin to look." The tall blonde spoke in a whisper, huddled close to his fellow knight.

"This is well. Perhaps then we shall speak at further length about this on the morrow?" Armand had not been as oblivious to the onlookers as he may have seemed, looking about him carefully as he bid his farewell. "You look well worn and in need of some good rest and a meal. I should warn you, however, that some within your company might find it difficult to be served. Ah yes, my own companions are motioning to me now. Gentlemen, ladies, I take my leave and wish you the best." Sir Armand bowed with flourish as he left the group and rejoined his own table.

"Oh, how lovely. Don't you think his manners were just dandy?" Lilliana cooed. Imoen giving her sister a disgusted look that the half high-elf could read all too well. "Not like _that_, Imoen. No, I just think there has been a sufficient lack of propriety around here as of late." She finished, sniffing as if in distaste.

"Has there been, your ladyship? Well, accept the humble apologies of the simpletons that surround you. Shall we be flogged for our slovenliness?" Jaheira retorted, the smirk in her eyes giving away the intent of her words. When Lilliana looked up at her the druid put a hand on the girl's shoulder. "It is nice to see you back in good form again. Truly." The druid found that she meant what she said.

All the while that Lilliana had been at the temple with Kivan, both Jaheira and Khalid had been desperately worried about what a 'possession' meant for the young cleric. A young cleric that just happened to have an unholy birth father. There was such horror at seeing Lilliana wailing about, attacking her sister and others, screaming in the demon tongue . . . but then Keldath had been successful with an exorcism. All that both Harpers had worried about seemed moot. If it had truly been Lilliana's darker blood taking over Jaheira had severe doubts that an exorcism would have accomplished anything. Now here the girl was herself, looking vibrant even if there was a deeply haunted look in her eyes. The druid wanted to know all that happened to the dawn mistress and the wood elf ranger in the tomb they'd managed to escape from, but now was not the time to question the girl. Jaheira wanted to bask in the feeling of being happy that both of them seemed, for the time being, well. Fate did not seem like a kind mistress and such calm would undoubtedly be short lived. If the murmurs in the main room of the Juggler were any indication, this brief reunion was already being despoiled.

If walls could speak the ones within the Jovial Juggler would be gossiping like mad now. Most of the stray eyes in the place were turned to the companions, whispers already becoming loud enough that some words could be heard. 'Harpers' 'scalping' 'knights' 'Amn' 'conniving' were only a few of such terms and names being bandied about.

"P-perhaps it would be b-best if we took our meals in our rooms. We should g-get c-cleaned up as well. W-we can meet in t-two hours time at mine and Jaheira's q-quarters. There is m-much to discuss." Khalid suggested, earning nods from all of his companions. "L-Lilliana, we secured you a r-room w-with Imoen. I'm sure she c-can show you w-where your items are." The Calimshite warrior smiled down at the girl. "G-good to see you." He added, giving Lilliana's shoulder a brief affectionate squeeze before he took his leave of the group, Jaheira taking his arm as they headed up the stairs.

"For once there is no argument from the group." Kivan grinned in a self humoring way that only Kivan could. "Perhaps the only tranquility we'll find in this building is from our own companions. That's a first." He downed his mug, leaving the empty earthenware on the table. Just as Lilliana had gotten information while at the temple and a letter from her friends explaining what had happened, so to had Kivan. His weapons had been broken and while the group had enough money to get his bow fixed the sword had proven far too expensive. "I'm off to get my bow from the smithy, and try to see if I can haggle for a better price on the repairs for my long sword, or a new one. Though I hate the thought of replacing it."

Imoen nodded as the wood elf rose from his seat, the rest of their companions having already moved to their rooms, leaving only Kivan, Lilliana and herself still in the main room. She expected the ranger would head off now that he seemed done speaking, but he didn't. Instead he extended a hand to Lilliana.

"Care to come with me?"

His face was warmer than Imoen had ever remembered seeing it and she looked between her sister and the elf. Lilliana smiled, answering in the affirmative.

"Yes, that would be nice."

"But aren't ya hungry?" Imoen felt compelled to ask but her sister shook her head. The petite thief herself was ravenous, but she wasn't going back to her room alone after missing her sister for what felt like a life-age. "Alright, then I'm goin' with ya. Boring here anyway." Cherubic face lighting up in a broad grin she stood with her sibling and the ranger, hooking her arm around Lilliana's.

It was as if someone had lifted a blanket from the three companions as they left the inn. The air of hostility and the snide remarks and bitter mumbling . . . all of it seemed as if he had been switched off as soon as they stepped outside the doors. Though it didn't take long for Imoen to start noticing the none-to-friendly side glances she was being shot from the locals. She supposed it would have been twice as bad if she'd looked openly Amnish, for now it seemed to be caused by her companionship to two elves. "I didn't notice it before but everybody looks awful sour in the face. Good grief, someone dump some beetles in the water supply or what?" The redhead finally asked, Lilliana and Kivan way too quiet as they walked beside her. A late afternoon sun caught Imoen's strawberry blonde locks in its light, turning them into a burning red-gold, natural ringlets bouncing off her cheeks with each of her steps.

"I no doubt sound high and mighty saying this but . . . well . . . I figured that after the Nashkel mines were opened up again, once good ore could begin to be brought out of there, that the citizenry would be happier. Grateful even, that some of their turmoil was over. Certainly I had not expected such dark glares. It feels like we did not accomplish _anything_, just made everyone more frustrated than before." Lilliana responded, thick leather soles slapping against the cobbles, her footsteps heavier than normal. Suddenly the somber look of her facade changed, eyes alight with a righteous fire that brought a smile from Imoen. "We have to do something about this! Amn was not responsible for what happened in Nashkel, these bandits were. If everyone could just see that and stop buying into rumors and cease all this war mongering . . ." The cleric trailed off, Kivan and Imoen staring at her. She realized sheepishly that she'd been speaking a little loudly, earning looks from some of the locals that walked the streets. "Sorry."

"Naw, that's alright Lil. Frustratin' when people can't see the forest for the trees." Imoen clicked her tongue reproachfully, eyes darkening when she switched gears in the conversation. "Did you hear about Mayor Ghatskill though? Uck! Seems like the bandits are gettin' even with us for helpin' the folks down there. That's what I think anyway."

"I thought of that, but it seems very gruesome for just petty revenge. Though with all this talk of brewing war perhaps the bandits wanted to do something that would catch someone's attention. With everyone under apprehension it certainly exacerbated the talk of Amnish conspiracy." Kivan added, keeping his voice as low as his two companions.

The Thunderhammer Smithy loomed ahead, the simple sign creaking loudly as the wind increased. So far the early summer season had been full of tempests, and with the heavy weight of moisture in the air now the ranger was certain another was on its way to the coast. The weather was nearly in tune with the recent emotions of the Sword Coast, storms brewing as much and as turbulently as the degrading relationship between the northlands and the south.

A tangle of wrought iron fenced around the squatty building, a few barrels of what was likely tannin outside the front doors. Through the dirty windows Kivan could see the burning glow of a kiln. There was much the wood elf could say about Beregost, but the local smith had to be a hearty soul indeed to be working in a hot, smoky workshop with the weather so oppressive. Taerom Fuirum seemed a goodly sort besides, the few times the ranger had dealt with him and certainly Lilliana and Imoen seemed fond of the aging smith. There was little customer traffic around the building and Kivan took that moment to note that the citizenry seemed mostly confined to the taverns from what he saw earlier. Places likely to provide the maximum amount of gossip. Hopefully now that the mines had been opened Taerom would get more business, Kivan just worried that it might be vigilantes trying to seek out the bandits on their own. Jaheira had been right to be concerned about that.

Kivan had no love of either the Flaming Fist or the Order, but they were not as incompetent as others would intone and if _they_ were having problems then simple civilians had little chance. What was true enough was that both groups were full of members used to taking on enemies in large numbers, pushing back as an army. To push back against those using stealth would _require_ stealth, admittedly more so than most Flaming Fist soldiers or Order knights possessed. Shining plate mail and clanking shields did not make for good cover from sneaking bandits that were nearly at home in thick trees. How easily they must have stood out during the day, as sun shone off the knight's armor like a beacon through the dense flora.

For once the ranger realized that his thoughts about the bandits meant more than justice for his beloved, meant more to him that just his vengeance. He spared a glance down at Lilliana and Imoen as all three entered the smithy. Finding these bandits, ending their attacks, it was about saving innocent people from being murdered, putting their lives back in their own hands. Lilliana was correct, they had to do something and Kivan wanted to. He wanted to set things right for more than Deheriana. In such a realization were also old vambraces, shackles on a soul that had worn them for too long. Nonetheless that spark of change was uncoiling inside the ranger, as if planning to attack the walls he had built around his heart. Kivan wondered if that spark was what Lilliana felt when she was in the middle of a particularly 'righteous' speech. Though Lilliana could be very foolhardy with her ideals, Imoen usually quick to back her sister whether the cleric was right or wrong. Kivan knew better, but the slow turning of thoughts within him was something he hadn't felt in a long time, and the feeling those thoughts created was not so bad.

Warm air hit Lilliana's face and she coughed at the smell of leather being worked, the heavy oils nearly cloying in their odor. For a horrible moment she saw not a smithy, but a tomb, the rank smell of decaying corpses stealing her breath and making her ill. She blinked, repulsed at the all too real illusion and eventually it disappeared, the reality of the shop she was in making her sigh in relief.

"Lil? Ya don't look so good, ya okay?" Imoen's spring green orbs deep with concern, her hand at her sister's shoulder.

"What? Oh . . . I . . . yes." Lilliana forced herself smiling, finding that the smile was genuine after awhile. "Really. Just day mares I think."

It appeared as if they'd have to wait after all. There hadn't been a lot of patrons outside the shop but there were more than a few _inside_, and all of them were either of the Flaming Fist or the Order. _Was there anyplace in Beregost free of tension?_ Lilliana briefly wondered. Her thoughts stopped short when she saw the young man from earlier. Imoen's hand waved in front of her staring eyes and she was startled from where she'd been momentarily frozen. "Mmm, what?"

Imoen rolled her eyes. "Geezum, you really are dazing aren't ya? I asked ya _three_ times if Keldath gave you any coins, ya know, so we can get Kivan's long sword fixed."

Lilliana hadn't even heard her sister and she shook her head at her own foolishness. She really ought to be paying more attention. When Imoen's words sank in she nodded, hand going to the coin pouch that had been hidden beneath the band of her skirt, tied around her waist with a thin cord. "Why, yes. Not much but some. 'Children of Lathander must take care of one another.' He told me and he knew we must be running very low on funds by now."

"No, no, I don't expect you to pay for _my_ things. I'm a grown elf." Kivan responded rather moodily, straightening his shoulders. "I won't have you offering me charity."

"Charity? For the sake of the Heavens, Kivan! You are starting to sound like Xan. Fine, look at it this way . . . you need both of your weapons to be the most effective in battle, to do your part for the group. So I wouldn't be paying for _your things_, I will be paying for the group to be at its most complete level of efficiency."

"Hey, that was a pretty good speech!" Imoen burbled, in good humor.

Lilliana smiled at her sister. "Thank you. Well?" She turned to Kivan expectantly.

"Alright, as long as this doesn't become a habit. Though we are getting ahead of ourselves. I'm sure Keldath didn't give you _that_ much and it might not be enough." Kivan looked ahead, squinting his eyes to avoid triggering his infravision with the furnace heat. There was a long line of men waiting with small purchases. Sling bullets, arrows, satchels. Among them was a younger man who had turned to show an obvious interest in Kivan, Imoen and Lilliana. The wood elf glared at the young man, ready for some sort of insult. Instead the Amnian only stared and it became clear that it was not Kivan he was looking at in the least.

Counting out coins, the pieces of gold made to lay in her upturned palm, the cleric hadn't noticed anyone looking at her. "Twenty five . . . ah . . .no wait twenty six. Yes, you were hiding little gold piece, but I found you." She smiled. The last of her coins had been hidden away inside a deep fold in her money bag, but shaking the small pouch it fell it out to land with the others in her palm.

"You shouldn't be counting them out loud. We have an audience." Kivan cautioned, eyeing the knights and the Flaming Fist in the smithy with distrust, a look mirrored by many of the eyes that watched them.

"Pish posh. I doubt anyone in here is of the thieving sort . . .well . . ." Lilliana smirked in her sister's direction. "The bad kind that is. Every adventurer should have someone to pick locks and destroy traps for crawls through dungeons. Right?"

"Right." Imoen grinned back proudly.

"Your doubt is noted, and also unwise. With everyone ready to fling theories of conspiracy at one another, a group such as ours should be cautious. In _every_ aspect of your dealings in Beregost. There is a young man in line over there that has been eyeing you over since we walked in. He looks to be with the Order, but who is to say that is the case."

"Please do not tell me you think there are _spies_ everywhere. I was simply joking about you speaking like Xan earlier, but now . . ." Lilliana rolled her eyes.

"Just try to listen to me. I know you want to believe in the good intentions everyone has . . ." Kivan tried, finding himself interrupted.

"Not everyone." Sullen, the cleric looked away, as if she could see beyond the walls of the smithy. Perhaps looking back into a tomb that may very well have become hers and Kivan's.

Kivan almost flinched at those simple two words, and the loss of part of her innocence that came along with them. Always he had the notion that Lilliana was a smart girl, and at the same time infuriatingly unwise. Nonetheless there was a subtle charm to such naivety as the young cleric possessed. It was a sad thing when part of that was lost in a way that had nothing to do with healthy growth and learning, but instead something foul and insidious. The wood elf cleared his throat, normally lustrous brown/green eyes turning dark with his thoughts. "I'm just saying that you should behave more cautiously. With all this talk of war, the last thing any of us want to be doing is opening ourselves up to attacks. Even those of the verbal sort."

When Lilliana didn't respond for a long time Kivan went to speak again but she shook her head, slight self-aimed annoyance in her voice. "You are correct, good ranger. It would be prudent to use some of your wisdom as a basis for my own. Nonetheless after counting my coins I'm not sure if it is enough to get more than some arrows for the group. We shall see, but a successful tradeswoman I am not."

Lilliana fanned her face with her hand, the humidity of the building making her scalp sweat under the weight of her thick hair. The blackness of it probably didn't help. She sent a glance in the direction of Imoen's neat strawberry blonde curls, short but just long enough to bounce on her shoulders. Before the cleric could contemplate whether she wanted to cut her own hair their turn in line had come.

"Oy! Miss Avalon is it? The mayor paid for your repairs already, said you might need 'em." Taerom Fuirum, the smith, smiled at the girl with a ruddy face. He drew out Kivan's bow and long sword from a trunk he'd had locked behind the counter. "Somethin' wrong miss?" He questioned when Lilliana didn't respond, only stared down at the weapons.

"More than enough it would seem." Kivan remarked snidely, sharing a perplexed glare with Imoen, in recollection of Lilliana's worries that her superior might not have given them enough coins for repair. If the mayor of Beregost wanted to cause a ruckus he need only supply his newest dawn mistress with continual favors such as this one. The wood elf could not complain, but he wondered if Lilliana might not have to tell her superior that to continual gift her with funds or paying her expenses might not be the best thing to be doing when the man's town was on such an edge. Keldath Ormlyr had been a priest long before he was the mayor of Beregost, but he was hardly a young man and he should have been more careful then that. Still, the group did need some assistance.

Lilliana calmed her thoughts and smiled at the smithy in appreciation. "Why thank you good sir. Please let Mayor Ormlyr know that we appreciate his aid, when next you see him." She added simply, it seemed an odd choice of words, since Lilliana would likely see the mayor before she left town. Nonetheless she spoke of nothing else; handing the repaired weapons over to Kivan. They hadn't been in the shop long, but already the cleric was anxious to be out of there and get back to her inn room.

* * *

Mint and verbena salts had been added to the steaming bath water, mint to revitalize the mind and verbena to ease tension. Lilliana had requested them, though it took most of what little coin she had left of her own funds. The cleric knew what Jaheira would say, complaining about spending hard earned coin on frivolous things, but the only bath salts Lilliana had were lavender and she felt sick to her stomach even thinking about lavender, though she couldn't recall what had caused that feeling. She sighed down into the water, immersing herself up to her chin in the deep claw foot tub.

The sound of the bathing chamber door opening made her cock her head, though she didn't open her eyes ; sure it was her sister coming in from the other room. "Imoen not now, I just want to be alone and I don't need any help. I just want a nice long soak."

"Well that's just silly, ya always feel better when I wash your hair for ya." Imoen's chirping voice sounded back and Lilliana smirked, resting the back of her neck against the smooth porcelain.

"Alright, but only because you talked me into it." Cold hands touching the skin around her ears made her jerk. "Your hands are freezing!"

"Yeah, I know, sorry. I was trying to enchant some ice arrows, but I'm thinkin' it's better to stick with fire for now. I'm not good at it." Imoen apologized.

Satisfied with that answer Lilliana relaxed as her sister soaped up her hair, fingers working it into a lather. "Mmm, that feels nice." The half high-elf smiled, opening her eyes for just a moment. Her mouth drew down when she saw ruddy red streaks mingled with soap running over her collar bones and into the bath water. "Imoen, are you bleeding?"

"I thought I sewed up all the wounds properly. I suppose some of the stitching wasn't tight enough." A voice that was certainly not Imoen, with all its rough masculinity, responded.

Lilliana froze, her body feeling paralyzed as hands continued to massage her scalp and fingers ran through her hair. She would never forget the voice, that of the man that had tortured Kivan, tortured her. The man that was certainly dead now.

"So lovely, so fine. And the way you murdered me? Such power!" The voice behind her spoke with awe. "Tearing me to pieces like that? Splendid." Nimbul burbled happily, his hands working low enough in Lilliana's hair that she could see their surface.

Cracks and tears covered the top of the them, obvious sewn stitches holding together pieces that had been torn apart. Lilliana stared in horror, her body frozen in place in the tub, shallow breaths coming through her lips. "You . . .you are . . .dead." She whispered out. Her skin tingled in revulsion, goose bumps forming on it.

"Yes, I am and _you_ killed me. That was very unexpected, and quite naughty of you. They all think it was a just a possession, or maybe they _want_ to believe that and have made it so in their minds. Many times the 'truth' is simply one person's point of view, and such a thing can always be warped into what one wishes it to be. You even have told _yourself _that lie, over and over and over again, haven't you?" Nimbul continued, fingers digging into the flesh of Lilliana's scalp as she sat in the water unmoving. "It _is_ a lie, and you know it. There is a part of you roiling with darkness, a part of you that has the soul of a murderer. Why don't you let it out? You would be happier if you did. No more chaos, just sweet surrender."

He was whispering against her ear and Lilliana could smell the blood, its coppery odor filling her nostrils. When Nimbul came around to the front of the tub and kneeled, Lilliana could not speak for her horror. His face was covered in lines, black stitches holding him together as blood seeped from the cracks. Eyes that had been black were now a murky white . . . the eyes of a corpse. Nimbul smiled and reached forward to place a maimed hand against her cheek and still she couldn't move.

"I will always be with you, my love. I am part of you, as _you_ were meant to be a part of _me_ . . . forever." He told her, coagulated blood in the corners of his dead eyes.

"Lil! You been in there a long time! Ya okay?" Imoen's voice echoed into the still bathing chamber and Lilliana found her voice, crying out for her sister.

"Oh gods! Help me! He's here!"

Imoen burst into the room, looking about but seeing only her sister in the tub. "Who's here? Lil, what's wrong?"

_What did she mean 'who'? Didn't she see him? Couldn't she smell the blood? _Lilliana whipped around from where she was staring at her sister and saw . . . nothing. There was no one there. Looking down into the water there was no blood, just a small trickle of soap from her hair. Sniffing the air now, only the fragrance of lavender invaded her senses. "I . . . I thought there was . . . " Confused and afraid she gazed up at Imoen, her sister only appearing to be concerned for her. _Wait . . . lavender? But that can't be . . . _"I bought mint and verbena for my bath! I know I did!"

"No, no Lil, ya didn't. You were going to, but we didn't have enough money. Remember?"

The cleric sunk her face into her hands, ready to weep. _Gods, what is happening to me? _"It all seemed, so . . . so real. I thought I saw someone that I couldn't have possibly seen."

"Who?"

"It hardly matters, Imoen. Just another day-mare. Sorry if I scared you. It's about time to join Jaheira and Khalid in their quarters isn't it? Surely they too must be done with their meal." Rattling off excuses, her voice warbled in rapid fire. Lilliana had already started getting out of her bath, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around her.

Imoen sighed, shaking her head, knowing that her sister didn't want to talk about what it was that was bothering her. The red head's only hope was later, as they got ready for bed, maybe Lilliana would run out of excuses for not talking, and would be more willing to open up. Because quite obviously the little moments of hers were not just day mares and if she was ever going to get past them then she needed to talk to someone. Who better then her own sister. Imoen smiled cutely. "Yeah, and thanks be to the pantheon that we didn't have 'ta have any _porridge_ tonight. Though the meat the maid brought us was cooked a lil' bit rare. I don't like things all bloody."

Turned away from Imoen, Lilliana kept her sister from seeing the horror that still shone in her eyes, face pallid. "Neither do I, Imoen, neither do I."

* * *

"**So it is without further discourse that I take my leave. I wish you all the best of luck . . . you will need it.**

**Regards,**

**Prince Xan Malian."**

Lilliana finished reading the letter, folding it up as the others in the room took it in. Ajantis snorted in derision. "Good riddance, I say."

"Sir Ajantis, that is hardly appropriate. Not all of us may have liked him . . ." Lilliana began, hands on her hips.

"Try not _any_ of us." Ajantis added. He leaned against a wardrobe, smirking even as Dynaheir shared an amused look with him.

Sighing, as her words proved to be a lesson in futility, Lilliana waved her hand in Jaheira's direction, hoping the druid would be able to end the discussion on a better note. The Harper took her cue, not ashamed to admit some level of amusement at the picture Lilliana and Ajantis presented. The young child taking on the role of scolding mother, as the older knight became more the petulant youngster. Both of them displaced members of nobility. "We should have the decency to wish _him_ the good luck he wished upon _us_. Certainly he will need it as well."

"I cannot believe he, who was always speaking of impending doom, would actually travel anywhere in the middle of this mess." The wide eyed cleric intoned, seated in a large and surprisingly comfortable stuffed chair.

"P-perhaps he thought it b-better to be the c-courier of his own f-fate i-instead of w-waiting around here, only to b-be k-killed anyway." Khalid offered, sitting on the ground with Jaheira, a large square table in front of them with papers spread out upon it.

Lilliana thought that over, nodding in agreement. With the letter out of the way she knew they were moving on to the business about Tranzig. The cleric surprised herself that she was actually excited to hear of what the companions found out. She sent a glance to where Kivan had perched himself on the arm of her chair. Both of them had been left out, and certainly in the wood elf's case, anxiousness was to be expected. What the half high-elf hoped for was that this news did not send Kivan into a rage as it did when facing off against Mulahey. Given that possibility Lilliana was almost grateful that Kivan had not been present when the rest of the group interrogated Tranzig, or the man would have been that more likely to have met a very brutal end. She meant what she had said before, even a villain deserves proper justice.

A massive map of the woodlands north of Beregost was unfolded to its full size across the table's surface and Lilliana leaned closer to it, though the images were large enough to see from far away. Minsc and Imoen had settled on the floor with Khalid and Jaheira at the table, the height of the Rashemite fairly impressive even when he was seated. Lilliana smiled at the sight of her sister and the berserker, both of them looking at the map with childlike interest.

"Peldsvale and Larswood, touching on the western most borders of the Woods of Sharp Teeth. This is our target area. Now obviously there are plenty of areas large enough for a bandit camp, and from what you and Imoen spoke of from when you were kidnapped . . ." Jaheira motioned to Lilliana and her sibling, whose eyes were focused with rapt attention now. "It was fairly large. This is of course assuming that the camp is of similar size now as it was then, and even more so that there still _is_ a base of operations. I'm likened to think that there is."

"It wouldn't be in the same location as where we found the sisters. I had been scouting that area for weeks and they were getting ready to move out before they kidnapped Lilliana and Imoen. Not to mention that area was no where near Peldsvale or Larswood. How do we know that is where we need to look anyway?" Kivan questioned.

Khalid shifted uneasily, nervous about bringing up the name 'Tazok' to Kivan, but it couldn't be helped. "T-Tazok, the one th-that w-wrote the l-letters t-to Mulahey, w-was also the author of the l-letters to T-Tranzig . . . He t-told him t-to w-watch out for stone e-eaters, and red w-wizards in Larswood and P-Peldsvale."

Glancing up next to her Lilliana winced as Kivan's eyes narrowed into slits, proof of his dark thoughts then, but when he spoke it was calm. "I have to wonder at the wisdom of these bandits. If not for the 'success' of their attacks and the preventative measures they have caused I'd think them incompetent. Leaving letters around where they could be read, I find to be most unwise, but certainly such lapses prove a windfall for _us_." The roiling within the ranger's irises lessened as a bit of humor crept into his tone. "From what Imoen was telling me earlier, this Tranzig was the definition of 'milksop'"

Seated close to Dynaheir, Ajantis nodded, shaking his head. "That's true enough and thusly I find myself _infuriated_ that he got away!"

"You aren't the only one." Jaheira added, violet gaze sparking hotly with easily remembered anger, the embers of which had been smoldering since the group's encounter.

"Ah, Boo says 'He who fights and runs away, lives to run away another day!'" Minsc bellowed and Imoen smirked at him, ribbing the colossal man's ribs playfully.

"Yup, true enough lil' Boo."

Lilliana wanted to say that maybe Tranzig's escape had been for the best. From what she'd heard about the encounter her companions had all been in very angered states. The cleric worried about what might have happened had all that anger been released on Tranzig, though now she wondered what _Tazok_ might do to the wizard. Failed lackeys to employers of questionable character rarely met with happy reactions to failures. Though certainly Tranzig himself was no saint, but who was to say what made him get into such business? Certainly after the young Avalon was stolen away by a madman she found that other villains came up wanting when compared to the memories of her tormentor. It was hard to imagine anyone as horrid as Aladres Chevres. The murderer of her father came a very close second however. What she wanted to say on that matter and what she _did_ say turned out to be quite different. "Good for us that he proved to be so disinclined to destroy his correspondences with Tazok then."

"Indeed young priestess, indeed. What thou must consider is what you might remember from thy captivity with thee bandits. Perhaps in regards to their form and function." Dynaheir rattled off, Jaheira glaring at her, perturbed to have the Wychlaran giving such suggestions. Even if they were true enough. Jaheira Kostas could admit her own flaws and one of them was her pet peeve of being outdone.

"Form 'n' function? Ya buffle-headed or somethin'? Their only _function_ was ta' steal, plunder 'n' assault folks on the road. Maybe some other nasty things too. Who knows?" Imoen added, snorting in displeasure. Lilliana seemed more willing to give details and Imoen rolled her eyes. Her sister, always thinking things to death.

"I claim no superior knowledge on highwaymen, certainly while I have been on the road for awhile now I am still yet a novice to a mercenary life. Be that as it may, well it seemed to me that these bandits were fairly organized for their ilk. Their camp wasn't too disorderly, though I admit that in my anxiousness to escape I didn't stop overly long to take notes." A smirk made it through her dulcet tones before she went back to thinking about what she saw. "I was certain that there would be slaves in shackles or dead bodies everywhere, piles of stolen things . . . But there were none of those in clear view. I couldn't even hear anyone in distress. I think they must have taken their prisoners elsewhere. A more permanent camp perhaps, with the one we were taken to a . . . stopover, of sorts."

"The guard I lifted the dagger from, he had some Brifubin vials hooked to his belt." Imoen remembered, noticing her sister's look of disgust. "I didn't think nothin' of it, and I only noticed 'cause the stuff has such a weird color, but then I remembered. Lil told me about Brifubin when we were at Candlekeep. They use it ta' deter spiders from forming nests, like in containers 'n' stuff. We had some back home ta' keep spiders out o' the tomes on the lower floors. What if they got themselves an underground camp, kinda like the one Mulahey set up under the Naskhel mines, ya know? There'd be lots of spiders in a place like that. It could be, right?"

Jaheira rubbed at her temples, deep in thought. Khalid had a fist curled under a tanned chin. He smiled brightly at Imoen which drew a returning grin. "Y-yes . . . P-perhaps. I d-don't think they w-would have large c-camp that s-stayed in the s-same p-place and risk being f-found out. H-however if it w-was one under the g-ground th-then th-that's safer . . . For _them_ at l-least."

"Not safe for long, when we find them and rip their evil hearts from their chests as they still beat!" Minsc explained, halted for a moment as he consulted with his animal companion. Nodding his head, eyes becoming sheepish as he looked about the room. "Ah, sorry, Boo tells me I should not say brutal things. Not right after supper."

It was a work-able idea, what the sisters had come up with, but for now Jaheira knew that the group was still looking for some kind of camp above the ground. Temporary or not, there was a reason that Tranzig was warned against red robes and stone eaters when traveling through Peldsvale and Larswood. What reason, the druid had yet to assess, but whatever it was likely was something her own companions had to be watchful of as well. She leaned back into her husband's waiting embrace as the discussion began anew of where they would begin to search.

Bringing up the scalping hadn't gone well, and to be frank even though Officer Vai had offered money that could better be used to fund the group, Jaheira herself was disgusted with the idea. Lilliana had reacted as expected, a very Gorion-esque speech about propriety and the ways of all good folk recited by a girl that seemed to mean what she said. Gone was the horrifying Lilliana that had been on display after she got out of the tomb. Returned was the Child of Lathander and the daughter of Gorion. Still their remained haunted pools in her eyes, and Jaheira watched the cleric with a closer eye than she had first intended.

Jaheira would not allow herself to be caught unawares, but neither could she deny any longer that she had become attached to both Lilliana and Imoen. Their annoying naivety, their immature approach to some things of necessity and yet they had worked themselves under the druid's skin. As the sisters began to add their own ideas into those of their companions it also couldn't be denied that they were contributing something to the group. Something that would have been missing if Gorion Avalon hadn't decided to raise Lilliana as his own and take her to Candlekeep. Though he was gone, the sage's presence remained, his thoughts, ideals and hope kept alive by the girls whose lives he'd touched. A legacy that might very well be a shield that the darkest of dark gods couldn't break. Jaheira was not one prone to hanging onto hope, but for that she prayed to Silvanus. Neither did the druid believe much in coincidence, and the fact that the child that Gorion had so much hope for was a cleric of Lathander was _not_ coincidental. Lathander; God of Light in a time of darkness.

* * *

Only murky swirls appeared in Sarevok's mirror and he growled at it, throwing a silver pot at its surface. Being enchanted as it was the pot merely bounced off. Sarevok sighed in frustration. He had not been able to use the mirror to see Lilliana Avalon in quite some time. There were only the reports of his adopted father's scouts that suggested where the little brat might be.

Now that she was in the company of particularly active Harpers many rumors had floated back to Baldur's Gate. Rumors that filled Rieltar Anchev with suppressed anger. Still, some things remained in the favor of the Iron Throne. Though the ore mine of Nashkel was opened again, the Harpers had yet to stumble onto the Throne's _own_ mine. Not to mention, if they even got that far, Tazok gro-Malog would not prove nearly as easy an enemy to uncover, defeat and get information from as Mulahey must have been.

The citizenry of the coast was rife with talk of a brewing war with Amn, which was exactly what the Iron Throne wanted. Though Rieltar had planned for the northerners to think that either Nashkel was ordered not to give them any good ore, keeping what _was _good for the southern Amnish, or that the Council of Six had sabotaged the mine. With the discovery and death of Mulahey, some of those notions faltered and yet the idea that perhaps it was Amn that had been giving orders to Mulahey seemed to be flourishing. Bandits murdered ruthlessly now, to the point that a contingency of Flaming Fist were stuck in Beregost. Word has also reached the Gate that a small group of Order knights from Amn were stuck there as well. The fact that neither large group could locate or combat the bandits made the citizenry ever more on edge, creating friction in towns up and down the Sword Coast. Travel from Amn into the north had been restricted by the Grand Dukes until they could hold a summit with the Council of Six.

Sarevok remained in a position he wanted to be in, things unfolding not just in a way that proved fruitful for Rieltar, but for himself as well. Still, he needed to see Lilliana Avalon gone. The continued existence of such a simpleton irked him to the point that the war lord couldn't stand it. Now that she was with Harpers she had fallen under the attentions of the senior Anchev as well. Nimbul had been Rieltar's best assassin, but no one had heard from him in awhile. Sarevok was uneasy about that, knowing that Nimbul was supposed to have killed the girl. He certainly wouldn't have let her live as long as she had been, and yet Rieltar's scouts said otherwise. Harpers in Beregost, talking with the mayor, talking with the Fist, talking with the Order. Talk, talk and more talk, but it all meant that they were still alive . . . and so was Lilliana.

Someone or something was watching out for the Avalon whelp, and Sarevok didn't like that at all. _Let us see if her mysterious guardian can protect her when a full moon is in the sky. _The warlord smiled deviously. Those he had most recently hired were more brutal then any that his _father_ would have procured, and that was what would be needed it seemed. Sarevok was done playing games with Lilliana, even if she was not aware that there even was a game. He wanted her gone, wanted the potential of her life's thread for his own.

Winski Perorate, a wizard that had been hired to help a younger Sarevok learn the ways of magic, had stayed on with the Throne afterward and moved to the Gate with Rieltar. The aging wizard had taken an interest in Sarevok, plotting behind Rieltar's back to empower the younger Lord Anchev. From him the war lord had learned how to trap Lilliana's essence, and the essence of all those like her. Using black sorcerer arts one like Sarevok could draw what was left of his intended victims from what little remains they left behind . . . And a small personal item tied to them.

Now Sarevok smiled, golden eyes burning. One of Lilliana's war hammers would work nicely. He'd seen her with one before the mirror had stopped working, and remembered enough of what it looked like. Just a small added instruction put into the bounties and sent by messenger to his current hirelings. That was all it would take. _Game, set, match, little Lilliana. You lose._

A knock was at the door and Sarevok glowered. "What is it?!" He roared. Tamoko's voice came through the door and he had no doubts she wondered why he'd locked it.

"You must come, there are intruders."

He heard her footsteps leave his door and he shook his head. So many frustrations, but he would deal with this interruption quickly.

* * *

Imoen had needed a moment away from her sister. She felt guilty just admitting that but after what Lilliana had told her there had to be some time to process it. The red head was happy that her sister had told _someone_ about her worries that she was going insane, seeing the man that harmed and her Kivan when he wasn't there. Lilliana still did not know what had happened in that tomb, and Imoen believed her, yet her sister worried that she might have been the one to rip the man identified as Aladres into pieces. Both Imoen and Lilliana knew that the cleric was capable of acts of violence when driven into temporary insanity. What Imoen had told her adopted sibling was what she truly believed, that as horrible as it was, as disgusting, that if Kivan and Lilliana's tormenter was still alive _they_ wouldn't be. The young thief could not be made to feel too badly that a sociopath assassin and torturer was dead, but neither could she deny that the manner of his death worried her.

Lilliana had been near panic begging Imoen not to say anything to Jaheira and Khalid and Imoen had sworn she wouldn't. Still, she was almost certain that the Harpers suspected something. Lilliana was many things, a good liar wasn't one of them, and a lie by omission was still a lie. . . . . .

"_I cannot speak of my horror to think . . . To think that 'I' did that and yet it remains that memory is within me of doing . . . _something_ to that man. I cannot explain it, nor can I explain myself. All that I hope for, that I pray for is to remain 'Lilliana', to keep whatever darkness this is from infecting me further. Would that it were as simple as excusing it away as some possession from an entity in those tombs . . . But Imoen, we both know what I did after my father . . . Well that isn't important, but what is remains the fact that both of us are aware that such hatred and violence lives somewhere in me. That cannot be explained away by a possession that could not, would not have occurred until after Kivan and I were kidnapped."_

_Imoen rubbed her forehead with her fingers, temples throbbing uncomfortably. When she looked up at her sister the half elf's gaze seemed to penetrate her and she nearly jumped. "Yeah, but Lil, after what he did to you, what we all suspect was done, between the other bodies down there and what happened to Kivan, ya don't know what coulda made ya attack him. Even if ya did, and I don't know if that's true. Your head is all muddled, I know that because you aren't as with it like ya normally are and I know that because I'm your sister." Thinking, hoping to decry Lilliana's worries she reached for any thought that came to the fore of her mind. "And! And then there is Lathander, he did somethin' to ya, Keldath got rid 'o whatever nasty it was that was plaguin' ya. The rest of it is just, well that crazed Jackmite coulda done all sorts of nasty things there and, well, I think I'd be seeing things too. Like a nightmare that don't quit."_

Imoen recalled that conversation with clarity as she walked the halls. Only a few patrons were still up and about, one room host to the sounds of laughter. The young red head paused for a moment, knowing it was Dynaheir and Minsc's room. Ajantis' voice came through the door and Imoen could not deny her curiosity. Looking about cautiously she moved slowly towards the door, ear pressed against the hardness of the wood.

Minsc was telling tales of his homeland, and the pride in his voice was evident. Ajantis occasionally made a comment as Dynaheir twittered with laughter after him. A happy sound. Imoen startled herself as she realized she enjoyed the mage's mirth. Her jealousy hadn't allowed her to see that, but maybe all this mess with her sister and Kivan had made her realize that time could be short. Who knew what was around the bend? It was wise to let go of childish thoughts . . . perhaps. No matter the reasoning the thief felt her anger towards Dynaheir and Ajantis both waning, and in such a state of mind the Wychlaran seemed a better person than Imoen had previously given her credit.

"Eavesdropping I see." Came a low voice and Imoen nearly jumped from her skin, turning to find a smirking Kivan.

A redness tinged its way up Imoen's fair cheeks and she turned her eyes downward. "Well, ya know." Came the lame retort and she glanced up when Kivan chuckled. It was a rare noise and not so unlike her issue with Dynaheir, made her re-evaluate what she thought of the wood elf ranger.

He had seemed forever sullen, only brief glimpses of the Kivan that might have been coming to fore. Imoen had often wondered what he would've been like before he lost his wife. Surely he could not always have behaved so quietly, pensive and remote. Such a loner wouldn't make much of husband, Imoen thought. But recently something had changed. Slowly over time Kivan had been more open with the group, but the feeling of his being a recluse remained. He often took his meals alone and in silence when he did share his company around the campfire. That was something the thief was used to.

Archery training with him was a serious affair, filled with little mirth. Though it seemed that Kivan was kinder to Imoen the longer he spent time with her. Always was that feeling that Kivan didn't see too far beyond his own inner walls, and while he occasionally offered a bit of dry humor or a sideways smile it never quite touched his eyes.

Now it was different, _he_ was different and it was a change Imoen couldn't put her finger on. She would have expected him to be even _more_ withdrawn after what was done to him by that madman. . . And yet he was not. This change presented itself in a warmth now shone in his smiles. Even when the name of Tazok was brought up the searing hatred everyone had expected was there and yet Kivan had contained it. Even going so far as to be amused be Imoen's description of Tranzig.

Above all else it seemed reflected upon her sister. There was camaraderie between Lilliana and Kivan that had been lacking. Though a small amount of respect and kinship had been there before, it was minimal and Lilliana often took insult at Kivan's suggestions. Slowly Lilliana tried to befriend him but it wasn't something that affected the wood elf in any sort of rapidity. Instead he almost came across as fighting against it, not wanting to make friends. Now it felt as if he were making more effort to that end than her sister. Quite an oddity. At first Imoen had wondered if there wasn't something romantic going on, but that thought died aborning. An elf of one hundred and thirty two years would see a half elf of only twenty as little more than a child and Imoen had doubts that Kivan could ever love anyone in that manner after his wife. Still, there was an affection there and one that Lilliana had not shied away from this afternoon, as she was normally wont to do in her timidity. That in and of itself suggested that the change was not of the romantic inclination, as Imoen knew full well how her sister would react to _that _sort of thing.

No, this was something else and before she could stop herself the question left her tongue to hang in the air. "You're different lately Kivan, don't why, but ya are, and ya seem to like Lil a lot more too."

He blinked at her, surprised at the question but there was no anger or reproach in his answer, though it came slowly as if the ranger himself was processing what he was saying. "I suppose we all can change, but I have no answer for you. It is something I could not speak of even if I knew." That was honest enough, the ranger thought. He really didn't know. He had felt different ever since he'd been released from the care of the Lathanites. Perhaps even before then. It was as if there was hole inside him that was surrounded by a wall. That wall had remained strong for a long time and now suddenly had begun to crumble. The hole within filled with a substance, and a feeling, he could neither put a name to or explain the cause for. It was what it was and for now he dared not question it.

Looking to Imoen he expected the girl would not be satisfied with that answer but she surprised him by nodding, solemnly, eyes filled with worry that Kivan immediately knew was not for him. "You are worried about your sister aren't you?"

She felt it a betrayal to share her sister's fear of going mad, but perhaps she could speak of only her _own_ worries. Kivan would not be one's first choice for confidant. Not because he was untrustworthy but more over because he simply was not the type to give out emotional advice. Tactics, suggestions for encampment locations; he was filled to the brim with those, passing them out as if they were wafers at a morning sermon. When it came to more personal matters, he had little to say. Still, as she searched his face now she saw something unexpected in the wellspring of brown/green eyes. Gentle curiosity. Imoen had promised not to speak with Jaheira and Khalid, and would not interrupt the frivolity between Dynaheir, Ajantis and Minsc . . . But perhaps, perhaps this change in Kivan offered her a sympathetic ear; something she needed badly.

"Lil looks good, better than before even, but it's only outside. I can see her eyes and she looks so . . . Disturbed. Sometimes today when she was lookin' at me I don't think she saw _me_, but someone else, somethin' bad. She tells me it's just day mares but . . .I don't think so."

Kivan offered the girl a simplistic smile, the expression giving Imoen a bit of comfort. "Try not to be plagued. I would worry for her too, but we must let her come out of this on her own. It is the only way, and I think not even _you_ know everything there is to know about Lilliana. She is still growing up, you both are, and I'm not sure that Lilliana _herself _knows Lilliana. I have not known her nearly as long as you have, but I've noticed that it is her way to worry over things that she might not need to. All we can do is be with her and guide her as her friends. As her sister you may prove more fitting in that role than the rest of us. Just be there for her as you are, I'm certain she'll be better." He added, knowing he had much of his own self to ponder and the hour grew late.

Imoen took that in, grateful for even as simple an answer as she'd gotten. Smiling up at him she nodded. "Sure 'nuff, I can do that. Night then Kivan." She bade him, intending on getting some honeyed tea from the kitchens before going to bed. Her sister's welfare still worried her but there wasn't much she could do about it that night. Perhaps in the morning her thoughts on the matter would be clearer. A thunderhead clapped loudly, making the walls of the inn shake and Imoen jumped. _That is if I can get any sleep tonight in order to get up on time tomorrow!_

* * *

Roderick stumbled up the stairs, holding a hand to the side of his head where a dented helm had begun to dig painfully at his right temple. _It had all seemed like such a good plan_. After finding out that Sarevok Anchev was one of the Children he had waited with his companions for the perfect time to strike him down. Sarevok was a warrior of some repute, true, but not invincible and with Roderick's loyal followers at his side there was little chance that he could fail. To those that did not know him Roderick was just another human mercenary who had conned some other humans to serving with him. But after he made himself known all would come to speak his name with reverie, the Greatest of the Children.

He had underestimated his half brother greatly. A thunderous boom sounded behind him and Roderick didn't know if it was the storm or if he was being pursued. His companions had held Sarevok off, and those few that had been with him. Hoping to give Roderick time to get away. His beloved, Tila, had urged him on the most. _"We may fall here today my love, but your destiny is greater than all of us and you must live to see it!"_ He felt cowardly to run but he knew that Tila was right. He could not be the last of the Children if he died _today_. Sounds of battle where behind him as he made his way up the stairs.

He was not injured enough that he couldn't scale down the wall. It was how he and his companions had gotten up the tower in the first place. A heavy pack weighed him down but he needed it. Roderick blinked rapidly as blood began to run down his face and sting his eyes. As he reached the top of the stairwell he shoved the wooden door open with what force he had left and threw his helm off, letting it land with a clang on the cobbled ground of the roof-top terrace.

Streaks of lightning lit up the sky over Baldur's Gate, the roof tops of buildings far below the Throne's tower looking like little more than large boulders from this height. Far beyond him rose an odd spike of a structure and the all too familiar towers of the Duchal Palace. There was little time to enjoy the view and Roderick dumped his pack out on the ground desperately, looking for his climbing equipment. A torrent of rain fell around him and he moaned. Not even the weather was on his side.

His fist curled around a coil of rope and two spiky crampons. Without a cinch however he might as well _leap_ off the tower. Hands and fingers slick with rain water fumbled with his belongings and then a terrible noise reached his ears over the thunder. Someone was running up the stairs behind him, someone large.

Eyes wide with fright he turned about just as Sarevok burst through the door, looking as Bhaal himself might. Horrid golden eyes shone from a dark faceplate but little else, and yet somehow Roderick knew the dark knight was smiling.

"Wait!" He tried, desperate for just a chance to think. Just a moment, that was all he needed. "Please . . .t-there are others!" How foolish of him, he thought, to have announced what he was with such pride. There within the tower Roderick had been so sure of himself, his group outnumbering Sarevok's lackeys. So quickly had they been bested that now Roderick could only wail at his own carelessness. Now Sarevok knew they were half brothers and there would be little Roderick could say to spare his own life. No time to re-group and come at Sarevok with a stronger attack plan. No time at all. "I can show you!" He shouted, crawling backwards on the ground, slipping on the wet cobbles. His hands were out in front of him as if he could push Sarevok back with some unseen force, but he never gained those kinds of powers from his birth father. He did know of other Children, that much was truth though he was not aware of what all of them looked like. Perhaps it was enough to gain the war lord's interest and buy Roderick some time. "Please! I can . . . No . . . no I WILL show you. I've been hunting them for a few years now and I . . .I can help you find them."

"I need no help." The simple growling answer came and Sarevok advanced forward, great sword drawn and looking hideous in the glow of the lightning bursts.

Roderick fumbled for his own weapon but the rain was in his eyes and he could barely see it. He screamed when he felt Sarevok grab at him. Fighting the much larger man off was useless. Roderick was raised up in the air, just one of Sarevok's gauntleted fists more than enough to hold him even as the smaller man fought at that hand.

"P-Please!" He tried, as cruel fingers tightened their grip around his throat. Legs kicked in air and he felt himself being carried closer to the iron-lattice railing.

"I shall be the last, not you Roderick the Fool. You will however get to be one of the first." With a laugh Sarevok plunged his sword into the man's chest and left Roderick enough air to scream. Blood spurted from the man's mouth until Sarevok crushed his wind pipe. Flecks of the life fluid had landed on Sarevok's face and he licked them off as he hoisted Roderick over the fencing. As the body fell Sarevok stood tall on the top of tower, black armor illuminating with each storm burst, as if it were part of the tempest. He would have raised his face to the rain, letting it cool him, but he wanted to savor this moment.

Roderick's body slammed into the ground ten stories down, broken apart on the cobbles. Though there were few people on the streets at this hour but beggars, braving the storm in their lean-tos and shanties. Sarevok grinned happily as the essence of his fallen brother floated up to him, like bits of stardust but full of power and life. He breathed it in, holding the dead man's sword in his left hand. For a moment the glow of fire was in Sarevok's eyes as he drank in Roderick's essence, and it felt as though the man's last screams echoed within him. Then he blinked and the strange golden hue of his eyes had returned.

There above the city Sarevok felt like a deity, standing proud amidst a roaring tempest. Yes, he did feel like a god, and soon . . . He would be.

* * *

_Tall gray and white spires of stone rose about her, the world she was in far alien to her own. Shuddering Lilliana willed herself to wake up, knowing she must be dreaming. "No more, no more dreams." Both the insistence and beggary in her voice echoed into a hollow world that seemed void of even air, though she could breath._

_"You must see, you must learn. You have to know what you are, because the faceless one is coming and he will try to take your destiny from you. This cannot be allowed. If you continue on the way you are he will destroy you!" A decidedly male voice of warning came at her, sounding disembodied and she screamed at it, fearing it to be the entity that had nearly harvested her soul from her, leaving her damned to an eternity of madness._

_"Lathander aides me! __**You**__ do not! Leave me be foul thing! Leave me BE!" Screaming into the smoky realm of her dreams she heard only a hollow, bitter laugh in response._

_"You will learn my child, you WILL learn."_

"NO!" Lilliana salt bolt upright, half the sheets off the bed, the other half tangled around her legs. Staring into the darkness of her room she focused on her inherent infravision, immediately picking out her sister's form asleep in the bed next to hers. The whole room being humid as it was made it hard to see heat signatures, but Imoen's pulsed like a red and orange beacon as the human girl roused from her sleep.

"Lil? What is it? Ya okay?" The question was sleepy, punctuated by a yawn.

"Go back to sleep Imoen, it was just a bad dream. I'm going to go out to the hallway balcony and get some air. I'll be back soon." Lilliana informed her sister, and had Imoen been more awake she might have wanted to go with her. As it was, the red-head was far too sleepy and only mumbled an unintelligible response before rolling back over on her side. Before Lilliana had even left her chambers the sound of Imoen's snoring made the cleric smirk. Ah but to sleep as soundly as her sister.

Lilliana had no idea of the hour, though it must have been early morning as it was still dark. The hall outside her room was utterly void of people, the sound of neighborhood animals coming at her from an open archway leading to the second story balcony. With a glance at the worn wooden floors the cleric found herself glad that she had put on a pair of slippers. There was no telling what grime would be underfoot and from the looks of them the floorboards had gone long without a good scrubbing. They creaked as she padded quietly over them, her long hair left loose to cascade down her back and brush against her night robe.

It was decent enough attire that had there been anyone out here it was entirely appropriate to greet them dressed in such. Though that worry was without merit as Lilliana found she had the balcony all to herself. Which was just as well, since she was not in the mood for company. With a heavy sigh she planted herself by one stone wall, short enough to sit on had she wished. Leaning over it with her arms folded she looked out over the town of Beregost, leastwise what she could see from a height of only two stories. The night was not so cool, but refreshing compared to her room. Even with the window open it had been horribly muggy. Out here there was a small breeze, enough to play through her hair and make her skin feel cooler and comfortable.

A bright moon cast its glow down on the town, though it wouldn't be full yet for a few more days at least. There had been a brief thundershower earlier, leaving a heavy dew on the ground, but the last vestiges of storm clouds had passed the sky long ago and it was a clear night. Would that she could order her mind to be so clear. Too much to worry about, too much to contemplate. She felt guilty for enjoying the excuse hunting down the bandits gave her, but it offered some respite from her worries that she was losing herself.

"Oh, beg thee pardon my lady. Had I known another was out here I would not have bothered you." There was sigh in the male voice that shocked Lilliana and made her turn about warily. It was the young Amnish man from earlier, his eyes just as amazingly blue as they had been when she bumped into him. Suddenly it felt like the balcony was very small, the air feeling warmer on her face. He seemed perplexed at the look on her own façade, and almost appeared to be fighting with himself on whether he wished to stay or not. "Would you mind if I shared your company for a brief while to take of the evening air?"

She did so love propriety. Finding her smile Lilliana nodded, shyly turning her eyes back to her view of Beregost. "Tis fine Sir. I would not bemoan the company." Had she not just been telling herself that she wanted to be alone? Yet there was truth in what she said, even if his presence made her nervous in a manner that she could not put a name to.

He was quiet for a time, pensive as he held broad shoulders in, leaning against the balcony's stone wall railing as Lilliana had been doing. With his attention focused outward, the cleric took the opportunity to study his features. That pang of familiarity clamoring within her loud enough that it nearly sounded like church bells.

He was tall, though not ridiculously so such as the giant Minsc was. In fact compared to the massive Rashemite this Amnian might come across as short. As _anyone_ would next to the berserker. Well muscled she found herself comparing him to Ajantis and yet he was different, a little rounder in body and face, but in a way that Lilliana guiltily found appealing. Neat rich brown curls adorned a serious lightly tanned face, full lips lined by a trim goatee not allowed to grow scraggly. It added some age to one that was otherwise fairly young. Had Lilliana hazarded a guess this man was somewhere in the range of her own twenty years. She could not see his eyes well from her sidelong glance and dared not move for fear of drawing his attention to her scrutiny of him. Though she could tell his eyelashes were long, she could not spy the rich sapphire blue that she'd glimpsed earlier. Then he turned and she quickly moved her own eyes away before she was caught at her study.

Anomen fidgeted as he made to turn about and address the young elven maiden next to him. He hadn't much experience with elves and immediately felt self conscious standing there so close to one. He'd seen a few here in the northlands but none had affected him the way this one had. When she'd crashed into him on her way into the inn he'd been caught by a pair of brilliantly emerald eyes and struck so intensely with remembrance that it'd been difficult to drive the girl from his mind the rest of that day. When finally he had managed, as he bedded down for the night, the image of her had only been replaced by his frequent nightmares and they had driven him to where he stood now, needing the fresh air. He knew he hadn't met her in the village before then and yet his conscious nagged at him that somehow he knew her.

Moonlight gave her fair skin a luminous tinge, in vivid contrast to the sheer blackness of her hair. Her face had appeared unblemished, but at this close range he could spy a thin white scar on her lower lip. She was small like his sister Moira and built even more delicately and yet there was a bit of muscle in her arms, left to his sight in the thin night robe she donned now. Though her features were very vivid there was smoothness to them that did not match the severity of the elven folk. Though she was certainly not ugly in the least, neither had she some breathtaking beauty as some of her kin, but instead a softness that Anomen found he liked. He had felt her looking at him, stealing a glance and a strange warmth spread in his belly at the realization. Now though the elfess had turned away from him, face pensive.

"Forgive me for being forward, but since we ran into each other so unexpectedly earlier, I cannot help but feel as if I have met you before, my lady, yet I know that it isn't likely." What answer would she give him that gave reason to his feelings? None, like as not, but his curiosity was near bursting.

"I . . . I do not know my lord." Pausing to give herself a moment Lilliana wished she hadn't decided to come out and yet, could not argue with herself that she felt oddly nervous and excited at the same time in this man's presence. To know that he too felt like he knew her, as she did him, was both strange and wonderful. For now she knew it had not been an imagined thing of girlish fancy. "Though I must admit to sharing the sense that we have seen one another long before now. Your face is familiar and yet, not."

Braving against bashfulness she looked up at him fully, taking in every bit of his face and hoping that somewhere in that sapphire gaze was recognition. Anything, even an ounce of memory. There was nervousness there to be seen, his trepidation evident as he blinked rapidly. Then it struck her so forcefully that Lilliana gasped aloud. Immediately her mind was filled with a series of memory bursts. All from her childhood. Trying to get a cat down from a roof, giving a young Amnish boy a braid of her hair and lastly her first kiss under a night sky.

Her gasp of shock made Anomen reel back and he feared the cause of it but before he could ask her if she was alright she spoke his name.

"You visited Candlekeep as a boy, and helped my sister and I get a wayward cat! Lord Anomen Delryn of Athkatla!" Lilliana exclaimed, beside herself with amazement. She was too stunned to even smile, though she was well and truly thrilled. For a moment he stared blankly at her, gauging the name and for a time Lilliana feared her assumption had been wrong. What a fool she would look. Then his eyes widened and recognition dawned in his gaze as it had in hers. _She'd been right!_

"I . . . I . . .but it cannot be! " Anomen peered closer, moved by his shock to stare unabashedly at his balcony companion. There in such emerald depths as her eyes possessed he saw the truth of it. Without thinking he reached for Lilliana in an almost desperate embrace, picking her petite body off the ground to hug her tight, and would have swung her about had there been more room. She was all smiles and giggles when he set her down and he remembered that brilliant smile well. When she reached a tentative hand out to touch his cheek he did not flinch from the contact. A shyness was in her gaze when she removed her hand, to stand almost bashfully before him. "My dearest Lady Avalon . . . Lilliana . . ." Anomen swallowed back on a deep sigh. He'd often said her name to himself alone, conjuring the brief memory of his childhood and one of the more pleasant memories of it. Even though he had often imagined what she would look like and when or if he would see her again, never had he thought it would be now. His nightmare was forgotten as his mind was wrapped in a fog of surprised contentment and joy. She was here and she was real. The only best friend unfailingly worthy of the title. When she spoke he drank in her voice. Soft as he recalled, and still with that odd mix of Waterhavian and Heartlander accents, but older and more refined.

"You . . . How are you?" Lilliana managed, feeling as if she must still be dreaming. Her friend could not be here, _not after all this time_. Yet, he was. Standing before her all grown up and quite handsome.

"I am well, I think." He smiled, knowing he must look foolishly happy, gaping at her like a half wit.

"I think I am well, though it is hard to say. I had not dared to dream of seeing you again, though I hoped for it." She admitted hugging him again in her glee and smiling into his shoulder as she felt his arms go around her back in a returning embrace.

They spoke long, standing there on the balcony, until the first rays of morning light began to peek out at the world from the horizon. Lilliana could not wait to tell her sister, and since the Order was staying at the same inn they were, she was certain to have Anomen's company at breakfast. _What a wondrous thing! _She thought, humming to herself happily as she made her way back to her room. Waving shyly to her friend as she went inside, all thoughts of her nightmares and hallucinations were lost as her mind was wrapped comfortably in joy. The only dark cloud hanging above her was the death of her father, and though Anomen had been caught up in excitement and had not thought to ask about Gorion, perhaps assuming he was with Lilliana as was likely, she was certain it would come up tomorrow. For now she would let herself bask in the enjoyment of a happy reunion, come what may.

* * *

Tranzig nervously backed up a step, though he doubted it would save him. To say that Tazok was angry was a vast understatement. "B-But you must see that I was overcome! I had no choice, and I still left without telling them anything! Truly, they cannot find this place!" The wizard tried, looking about him to find only scowling faces, or worse, those that found amusement at his plight.

"Think you that Tazok not be angry?! Fool! You left us open to attack by the letters this one sent you. Tazok's letters were to be BURNED after you read them, but you left them behind!" The half-orge roared, moving closer to the simpering human before him. He raised his great sword high, snarling at Tranzig as the milksop cowered beneath him . . . Then he stopped.

"You . . . You will spare me?" Tranzig asked in amazement, then wondered why he had asked that question. If Tazok gro-Malog was having any second thoughts it would be best not to ask about such a rarity.

Smiling in a truly horrific fashion the massive half-orge put his sword in its scabbard, reaching forward to haul Tranzig up by the collar of his loose robes. "Tazok has a better idea for a fool like you." Dragging the man across the dirt he stopped before the mouth of a small cave. Sounds of yipping and growling came from within and Tranzig's eyes grew wide in fright. "They have been eager to fight, not happy in their cave. Hungry too. As Tazok knows we don't have much food, perhaps he will give them a meal."

"NO! NOOO!!" Tranzig shrieked as he was tossed into the dark hole. The sounds of excited yipping were punctuated by his screams of agony as the creatures inside tore him apart.

"Yes, Tazok thinks it is most fitting for the gnolls to dine on blubbering meat." He smiled again, looks of fear evident on the faces of those that worried a similar fate lay in store for _them_. While others snickered as their leader now did, in genuine amusement or simply to placate Tazok.

One that lingered past the fray of onlookers had watched with little emotion at all, eager only to have his own business done with. A heavy cowl concealed his face, and the grotesque mask that covered it, though his monstrous musculature was evident in the tight fitting leather he donned. An elvish voice spoke from within the shadows of that hood, ill matched to the form of the voice's owner.

"I will not be delayed here ere long. I have my own matters to attend to. It is only at Adelaide's insistence that I came here in person." The man spoke simply and Tazok turned his attention to him.

As much as Tazok had seen, and as little as he feared, the one that stood before him now gave him pause. The air the cloaked figure wore around himself created much un-ease, even in one such as Tazok. He held what decorum a half-ogre bandit leader might posses and nodded, motioning the man to follow him to his tent.

"Come, come. We negotiate price on potions. Tazok need some odd four dozen or so, and the boss does pay well enough for them. So Tazok pays well too." He made an effort not to flinch as the man spoke, though the emotionless voice gave Tazok a feeling like insects crawling over his skin.

"Yes, yes . . . That would be well." Stepping into the interior of the large tent the man drew back his hood, not so bothered by the early morning sunlight under a canopy. Though he was not nearly as sensitive to that burning orb as his sister, it still gave him cause to be uncomfortable. Bright blue eyes shone from the paleness of the flesh mask that concealed his rotting façade. He was not in a position to be shy about his curse any longer, but a face falling apart from rot did little to aid him in business transactions and he did need funds. Even a wizard of his power needed some kind of money . . . And it brought him closer to one of the Children. An item more valuable to him than any kind of currency.

Irenicus, once known in life as Joneleth Irenicus, stopped as he spotted a drawing on one table. It was a rough sketch but the girl on it drew his attention. It was a bounty notice that someone had taken the courtesy to color with pastels or the like. Green almond eyes dominated an other wise simple but comely face. She looked to be no more than a child and yet . . . He drew a thin finger along the line of one sketched cheek before Tazok spoke and Irenicus turned to look at his business partner of the day. "This will be my last trip to give you any supplies." He spoke simply and Tazok nodded. He needed time alone to work and prepare, if Sarevok was to be of any use to Irenicus and his sister.


	13. Chapter Twelve: Deepening Heart

**Disclaimer:** _"Forgotten Realms: Baldur's Gate" belongs to Bioware, TSR, and Black Isle Studios. Lilliana is mine and situations that you don't recognize from the game are mine, all other material and inspiration for my material is under copyright by the above named. Additional Forgotten Realms material included in this story but not in the game belongs to Wizards of the Coast. Almaestaddamir Auldcastle, Storm Silverhand, Bran Skorslun, Lady Alustriel Silverhand, and Elminster Aumar are characters of Ed Greenwood, the father of the Forgotten Realms._

**Words From the Author: **_You know that moment of sheer ecstasy you feel when you bite into your favorite food in the whole world? Yeah, that's how I felt when I edited the last paragraph of the last page of this chapter. I even let out a big 'YAHOOOO!" I have had so much trouble with this (I blame the romance) that it has taken an inexcusable amount of time to finish and I do admit that there were times my interest waned to other projects because of the difficulty I was having. But here we are, finished product! *Does the happy dance* _

_As you can tell in the disclaimer, I'm using some more canon FR characters. Lilliana is really my only original-original character, though there are some mentions of sideline characters that exist only in this story. Mostly I prefer to use characters that already exist in the literature or games, and in the case of the games I like expanding on them a great deal so they feel even more like canon. So you'll see that, I think, more and more as we go forward._

_I'm not sure how the time line changes work here, switching back and forth, but I think I separated them well enough. This is definitely a more character heavy chapter, as opposed to action, so I hope that works for you. This is obviously not the last chapter, so some conversations that you might expect out of events herein are actually in the following chapter which IS an action oriented chapter and a heck of a lot easier to write._

_One thing I learned about writing this, is that I like my protagonist more because of how irritating her prissy attitude can be at times. She feels more like a real person to me. That person at the office that is nice to everyone and always brings in doughnuts, but if you ever say 'crap' in front of them they'll look all appalled and you want to smack them. So if at any time any of the 'good guys' get on your nerves and you are thinking 'gee, this is a nice person but man do they bug me sometimes!' Well, that's the idea. ;)_

_A huge thank you goes to my friend Brooke-Lynn, a lovely Scottish lass, who helped me greatly with the romantic sections here as we discussed them in long boring phone calls. So if you are reading this Brooke, I did not decide to put in any heavy make out scenes, sorry to disappoint. :p If there are any readers left out there after the months of waiting for an update, I hope you enjoy this chapter and it is most certainly dedicated to all of you, as well as those writers whose stories I have not been reading or reviewing as of late. I promised myself that I'd finish this chapter before I indulged too much in other reading. So I'll be catching up on that as well._

_Enough inane babbling from me, you came here to read and be entertained and you've certainly earned it. So without further ado, I present you with Chapter Twelve._

_As always, thank you dear readers, for joining Lilliana on her journey!_

* * *

_**Chapter Twelve:**_

_**Deepening Heart**_

* * *

_With a sigh, you turn away._

_With a deepening heart._

_No more words to say._

_You will find that the world has changed, forever._

_~ Howard Shore / Liv Tyler_

* * *

**Year: 1348, 20'th of Ches.**

**I**n the woodlands that shared space with the fabled Myth Drannor there was the smaller settlement of Ashabenford. It was a quiet place and home to many half elves, a people that rarely found a land to call their own. One of their number was a half-high elf mage, Alianna Avalon and her sage husband, Gorion. Though the blonde man was fully human he was welcomed by his wife's kin-folk openly. When he was home that was.

Gorion and Alianna had always been active Harpers, but with her pregnancy in its late stages the half-elf had to stay home while Gorion continued on. He said that his excursions were what they always had been, for the good of the great balance, but Alianna knew that her husband was in it more for saving the goodly folk of Toril instead of any _balance_. Now though, she doubted it was even for such reasoning that he left. He'd been frantic about the baby coming, though he tried to hide it. Leaving for this excuse or that when Alianna was sure he was looking for seers and prophets, and priests. Anyone that could tell him anything about the 'Children', like the one growing in Alianna's womb. Letting the worries of other Harpers get to him, what nights _were_ spent at home he had a nose stuck into books of knowledge, or worse the overly wordy contemplations of Alaundo. Though it had long been discussed and the difficult task of putting it behind them begun, Gorion had also started to question Alianna again over what she remembered from the events that led to her conceiving.

Nothing had changed. She still recalled only bits and pieces, like the hazy memories of a dreamscape. Except in her case it had been a _nightmare_. Feeling that heavy weight upon her, whispered words from a stranger that appeared to be a high-elf. Words of how she was a special female and should feel 'honored' to carry one of the Children, though honor was not something Alianna associated with rape. Then later, the horror at realizing that she was indeed pregnant. When the nightmares that felt more like visions first started, she began to suspect the identity and nature of the babe's father and since then had tried to come to terms with her situation.

Both Gorion and Alianna had reached an understanding that it was not Alianna's fault, what had happened. Though that hadn't meant they weren't still worried. Lately however, Alianna had started to lose some of _her_ worry. Gorion had not.

As the fetus grew Alianna began to feel a connection to her baby that midwives often spoke of, and though she expected the offspring of such a siring to be as frightening as the father, it was not. Instead as she felt the babe move about within her growing belly, there came the sense of wonderment, calmness and even love. As her husband and her fellow Harpers began to get more worried with what the child would bring about, Alianna began to feel . . . hope. She'd feared that a child of a dark seed would be just a copy of the sire, and that the 'mother' would only play the part of a birthing vessel. Now that she could sense the child within her, it became clear that it was not that way. This baby was part of _her_ as well, and Alianna intended to keep it.

Her associates at Twilight Hall cautioned against it, stating as they had from the beginning that once born the child should stay at one of the Harper's headquarters. Secreted away while it was studied to prevent it from adding to the chaos its other sibling would create. Now Alianna looked back in shame at her early readiness to go along with that plan, when she'd thought of her child as just some evil spawn. As she glanced outside the window and the dirt roads beyond she placed a hand over her belly and rubbed it, looking down to smile at its roundness. Her own form was silhouetted by the falling sun. Short but slender of frame now with a large stomach all full of baby in the front. Rich auburn hair caught the light, looking brilliant in contrast to an ivory face and violet eyes.

A vase of sunflowers sat near the sill and the half-elf ran delicate fingers over the edges of the golden yellow petals. Still a sense of fate was around them, though Alianna couldn't explain why. She'd never been overly superstitious, her muted faith in Mystra carrying her through the early years of a mage's training. Gorion was a follower of Oghma but he didn't actively pay lip service at temples any more than his wife did. Yet when Alianna had walked past a caravan of traveling merchants, she'd spotted the flowers and the nearly supernatural urge to buy them washed over her. There had been pots of what the florist called 'mini-suns' at the edge of the wagon, mixed in with other flowers not native to the Mistledale woodlands or the Elven Court. Though Alianna had seen sun flowers before she'd never been so drawn to them as she had that morning. She knew they were blooms holding some popularity with Lathanite clerics who preceded over births. The flowers served as a conduit from babe to god, as Lathander greatly loved new life. Perhaps her inexplicable desire to purchase them had been a sign from the Pantheon that this child would not have a doomed life . . . or maybe they'd just smelled nice.

Now as Lady Avalon sat perched by the windowsill, the darkening light of sunset peering through the trees, she contemplated what she might tell her husband. If she told Gorion that she'd bought the flowers because she had the feeling that the powers that be wanted her to, he'd say she was being superstitious. Honestly, if it had been _Gorion_ that had bought them for such a reason and told _her_ about it, she'd think the same thing. As if the gods thought she'd been sitting in contemplation too long, she heard boots on the cobbles of the walk way and soon Gorion's blonde head appeared from the open door.

"There is my lady." Lord Avalon smiled in greeting, coming over to her and bending low to kiss her soundly on the mouth. When he drew back he noticed the flowers on the sill, commenting on them as he went to hang his cloak up on a wooden rack meant for such a purpose. "Bright flowers you have there. I don't recognize them from around here. Traveling merchants in town today, dearest?"

"Mmm hmm. Several in fact, mostly from Trademeet. One of them had a flower cart. These just . . . well the bright yellow caught my attention and they smell nice don't they?" She asked. Gorion nodded, taking his boots off as Alianna slowly stood, using her hands on the arms of the chair to push herself up, struggling for a moment to gain her balance. Gorion came over to help her but she shooed him away. "I don't know how many times I have to remind you of this, husband mine, but I'm pregnant not _crippled_. I can still get about, even if I look like a bloated cow."

"Bloated cow? Listen to yourself! Why I doubt there is a maid in the Mistledale or beyond that glows as radiantly." From another man such words would have seemed overly flowery and likely disingenuous, from Gorion however, they were quite pleasing in the honest way he relayed them. He had an almost naïve honesty about him at times, though certainly he'd learned much about necessary deception from the Harpers.

"I thank thee. Were you visiting with Sartonis Alieradon again?" Alianna inquired, not so subtely inferring her suspicions. Both of them knew he'd been out with the Harpers, making plans, doing research.

"Yes, quite." Gorion paused from where he'd been placing his staff in holders above the hearth. He pressed weary palms against the smooth stone of the mantle, embers lighting his face, finding the nooks and crannies of the early signs of human aging. He sighed, shoulders and mind feeling heavy with the action and turned to his wife. "We were talking about the . . . baby. Where it should be born." He finished, leaving the words hanging in the air like the ill omen he thought them to be.

Taking a measured breath, Alianna almost felt tempted to sit back down, but she remained steady. "Her, not 'it'." She corrected and watched her husband for his reaction.

"Her?" His gray eyes seemed unfathomable.

"Yes, _her_. I've felt it for some time, and the midwife confirmed that I am carrying the babe like a girl." She ran a stray hand across her abdomen.

Allowing his furrowed brow line to relax, Gorion went to his wife, steady gaze wandering across her swollen belly. "A girl." There was a brief look on his face that Alianna couldn't process and then it went back to his common mask of concentration. "Why did you not tell me this ere now? You refused to let the druids or the priests within the Harpers tend to you, if they had we would have known this already."

"Because it didn't matter to you whether it was a girl or a boy, sadly for some time it didn't matter to _me_ either. We treated the coming of this child as a dark portent, another mission that the Harpers had to undertake for the greater balance." Alianna continued, her violet eyes bright with her emotions.

"You speak in past tense." Gorion stated simply, though his current feelings were far from simple. He knew well of what his wife spoke. For though this child would be considered his own for all public purposes, it was not he that had sired the babe. It was a being of the utmost evil and malcontent. Though such a fact was kept a secret with the couple and their fellows in the order of Harpers to which they both belonged. Those others that Harped were understandably leery of what this child might bring with such tainted blood in its veins. At first Alianna had agreed that the utmost caution was required. Apparently she'd changed her mind.

"Indeed I am, because I have reached a decision. This is _my_ daughter and I'm going to raise her. I want you with me so we can raise her ourselves. Away from tests and experiments; just take care of her like a normal child." Alianna couldn't keep the beggary from her voice.

"She isn't a _normal_ child!" Gorion bellowed in aggravation, feeling like a lout when his wife winced at his tone. "I . . . I am sorry, it is just that . . . We cannot take care of this babe ourselves. Too much could happen; things we couldn't control on our own." He tried to give her one of his winning Avalon smiles but she wasn't having any of it.

"Yes, yes we can! Her coming is not to be _feared_. She's just an innocent child, we can raise her to be better than anyone imagines. If she has _my_ love and _your_ love . . . Gorion, darling don't you see? If she is loved, if she is taught to find the goodness in life, her darker heritage won't matter." She searched his face for a reaction but there was only a resigned sadness there.

"Don't you think that Bh . . ." The sage paused, not wanting to say the name aloud in case the god was listening. "Her sire will have a say and I fear _His _say has more power than _ours_."

"Alaundo's prophecy states He is going to die." Alianna nodded, telling herself that _that _part of the divination was true.

"Then we must accept that the rest of what Alaundo was shown is truth as well. Even if it is not, dead gods do not stay dead for very long. You know that as well as anyone. Remind me how many times _Mystra_ has been re-born?" He asked a little snidely and his wife glared at him, eliciting a sigh from the weary sage. "_Why_ are we talking about this again? Alianna, my love, we have a loyalty to the Harpers . . ."

"And I have love for my child! That outweighs _any _loyalty I may have. She comes first!" The half-elf shouted, the babe wiggling within her as if feeling and sharing her agitation.

"Heart of my heart, listen to what you are saying. It is Him isn't it? He's gotten into your head. Storm has a feeling that is how He talks to people, sneaks into their minds and pretends to be a soothing presence in a dream. You might even think it is your own subconscious talking to you, or that you are going insane, but you aren't. Then He wins you over and you start to change inside." Gorion frowned.

"Oh to the Hells with Storm! This isn't _her _baby! My words are my own! Look, if we . . . Ahh!" Alianna was stopped mid sentence by a sharp pain in her abdomen that sent her reeling backwards.

Gorion took her hands in his own, shocked to find them cold to the touch. She looked very dizzy. "Alianna? What's wrong? What is it?!"

The half high-elf wobbled for a moment as if she were a buoy in the water, then she screamed. "It's the baby!" The floor came up to meet her in a rush and she faintly heard Gorion yelling for help.

* * *

**Year: 1368, 16'th of Kythorn (present)**

"Heh, Lil . . . Calm down!" Imoen instructed, trying to be serious but finding it hard between her fits of giggles.

Her sister was buzzing around the room in a tizzy, digging through her sparse luggage and the few basic dresses she'd purchased for herself since they'd left Nashkel. Their temporary home had been in the closet of the room, but now they were lain across Lilliana's bedspread. The half elf's hair was all over the place from her fussing with it, a haphazard pin sticking out from a tangle of black at the back of her head.

"I have nothing! It's all trash, rubbish! Attire barely fit for mucking out a barn!" The cleric pouted, flouncing down onto the bed with a very audible sigh, sounding like nothing if not a spoiled princess having a tantrum. "Oh what timing!"

Thoughts of the beautiful gowns, and pretty, simple dresses she had at Candlekeep passed through her mind, and she sighed again. She'd brought a few of them when she'd left with her father, but thatbag had been taken at the bandit camp. Lilliana ran a hand over the light cream traveling dress spread across her mattress, the plainness of it very obvious and her frame would make it even more so.

"What about the dress you bought for the dance at the fair?" Imoen inquired, trying to help.

"No, no, that would not work. I mean, it was fine for a dance but I think it would be a tad fancy for breakfast . . . and it doesn't fit me anymore." Lilliana responded, looking up at Imoen, embarrassed.

"Doesn't fit ya?! Good grief, you haven't gotten _that_ much bigger since we left Candlekeep." The red head cast a critical eye on her sister, studying her to see if she really had grown. _Maybe . . . a little._

Lilliana nodded solemnly. "Yes I have, not much, but I _am_ taller. I noticed when my leggings wouldn't tuck down as far into my boots as normal. That dress was a smidgen long before and now it is too short. A lady mustn't ever show more of her ankles than is appropriate." The cleric added, sounding utterly serious.

Imoen was well aware that Lilliana held the rules of court to heart. The thief took it in stride but she knew that some of their other companions got annoyed with the cleric's aristocratic mind set. Imoen couldn't say she blamed them either, it _could_ be irritating sometimes. Like when they were camped out in the wilderness and Lilliana would tut at one of them for making a mess while they ate, or the near constant reminders on protocol, often begun with '_my father always used to say _. . .' Nevertheless it amused Imoen. "Just wear your night-gown again. Heh! If _Jaheira_ knew what you had on . . ." She wiggled her red-blonde brows at Lilliana, suggestively.

"Hardly! I would never dress inappropriately of my own intention. You know that. It was a _full night robe_, nothing lewd." Lilliana defended, nose held nearly as high as her head.

"Oh-ho! Excuse _me_, Miss High 'n' Mighty. 'Sides, I know. Ya dress like a _grandma_." Imoen laughed, even harder when Lilliana threw a pillow at her.

"Imoen!" The half-high elf shouted, throwing the square pillow with more force then she'd intended, knocking her sister off the bed with the unexpected toss. She sounded worried until she heard Imoen's chirp of laughter. "I didn't mean to . . . Oomph!" Lilliana began to apologize but before she could finish, the cleric had a face full of pillow.

The red headed human was snickering, waiting for her sibling to return the throw. When she didn't, Imoen started to feel guilty. "Lil, I wasn't tryin' ta make fun of ya." She stood from her bed to go over to Lilliana's. The cleric had turned about on the mattress and was facing the window. Imoen put a hand on her shoulder.

"Ah, sister mine. Your apology has been taken note of, but I'm afraid it is just not good enough." Lilliana commented and she felt her the other girl's shock. As she was turned away from the red head, she made it impossible for Imoen to see the playful grin tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"What?! Ya can't really be _that_ angry with me!" Imoen squawked but instead of responding, Lilliana hit her square in the face with two pillows. When the young thief recovered her sister was all giggles and Imoen smiled at her deviously, ready to fling them back.

The pillow fight had begun.

* * *

Jaheira was anxious to have breakfast done and out of the way so they could move on with their search for the bandits. Getting out from under the eyes of the suspicious townsfolk, overzealous Flaming Fist and desperate Order would be a much added bonus. She went to knock on the girls' door, but was halted by loud giggling and the sound of multiple objects beating against each other. Cautiously, she turned the handle to find it unlocked. The druid Harper opened the door to a room full of feathers. Lilliana was still clad in just her chemise while Imoen was dressed for the day, as they hopped back and forth on their beds, knocking each other silly with pillows. At least two were already ripped and losing down.

"What in Toril is going on here?!" Jaheira yelled loud enough to get over the girls' high pitched merriment. They both stopped, short of breath and faces flushed from their game.

"Jaheira?" Lilliana and Imoen asked at the same time. Imoen laughed and sent up a splutter of feathers that had been stuck near her mouth. "We were just, havin' fun Miss J."

The abrupt description from Imoen brought a snort of amusement from Lilliana, though the half high-elf tried to cover her mouth against a laugh, in light of being caught. Imoen sent her a playful smirk as the two sisters awkwardly clambered down from where they'd been standing, on the lumpy mattresses.

"That much I can see with my own eyes. Foolish girls!" Jaheira scolded, but was fighting against a smile as she shook a finger at them. "Just be sure you have this mess cleaned up and are ready for breakfast soon. I won't have the day wasted. Not with the townsfolk breathing down our necks. And sew up those pillows, we've barely money enough between us, let alone any to pay for reparations." She went to leave but a feather-decorated Lilliana stopped her short, pulling her into the room and looking bashful as the druid had not seen her in some time.

"Mistress Kostas? Ah, _Jaheira_, I'm sorry I know you aren't fond of titles. I am expecting some new company at breakfast. I'm sure the gentleman's presence will not keep us overlong this morning and I hope it is alright with the group?" The question was posed genuinely, as if Lilliana might change her plans if it _wasn't_ alright.

Jaheira could almost see Gorion standing there before her, offering a question as courtesy. Lilliana was a lot like her adopted father in many ways, but different enough that Jaheira suspected Gorion recognized his own flaws and wanted to eliminate them in his daughter. He hadn't entirely succeeded, as Lilliana's strong sense of propriety hadn't stopped her from engaging in a childish pillow fight. Jaheira sighed, but didn't know of a good reason to tell the girl she _couldn't _have someone along. "I'm sure it will be fine, as long as we aren't kept late into the afternoon."

Lilliana smiled widely and tutted the inference away. "Oh no no. Of course not. Certainly not that late."

"Yeah, after all, the Order has their _own_ business to get on with, don't they?" Imoen giggled as if sharing a private joke.

"_The Order_?" The druid asked and Imoen seemed more than happy to further inform her, ignoring her sister's pleading gaze to keep quiet.

"Yup, Lil's sweetheart is in the Order. Squire anyway. To think, they haven't seen each other for _so long_, and _so much _distance 'tween em too. Ain't that _romantic _Miss J?" Imoen fluttered her hand against her forehead, feigning a swoon.

"He is _not_ my 'sweetheart'. Just a childhood friend of which I find myself reunited with. That is _all_, and yes, he _is_ a squire in the Order of the Radiant Heart." Lilliana defended to Jaheira, the druid arching a brow at her. There was perhaps more enunciation in her words than was required.

"I see." Jaheira merely nodded her head. "Well, I'll meet you down in the main room. Don't take too long getting ready." With that the Harper walked away, towards the stairs. She stifled a laugh when she heard Lilliana's voice going shrill at her sister from behind the now closed door.

"_Imoen_! Tell her _everything_ why don't you . . . and he's _not _my sweetheart!" The girl shrieked and Jaheira could no longer contain her bark of laughter as she stepped down onto the landing.

* * *

**Year: 1348, 21'st of Ches.**

Alianna's labor had gone on for a long time and into the wee hours of the next day. The half high-elf had bled out far more than she should have. Many times Elaine, the midwife, wanted to call the father in but knew it wasn't customary. It turned out to be a losing battle in any case.

"She's dying!" Mary, one of the assistants, cried out. She was fretting over Lady Avalon as the other girl, Syranel, was tending to the newborn.

"Not _dying_, but _dead_." The midwife wore a deep frown of sadness, reaching forward to close the woman's eyes. Turning away, Elaine glanced across the room where Syranel was looking after the little girl. Outside, rain pelted against the home as if crying in mourning. Elaine felt like doing the same as she stroked the mother's arm. "You did good, my lady. Rest you well, knowing the babe is healthy." The midwife whispered. She stood up and wiped the blood off her arms with a rag, using the clean end to dab at her stinging eyes. When she'd composed herself, she addressed her assistants. "One of you get the lady cleaned up as best you can." Weary eyes traveled to the door that led to the main room, where the father was waiting. She admired his patience but wasn't looking forward to going out there and giving him the bad news. "I must go speak with his lordship."

Gorion Avalon was seated on a stool in front of a low fire. He looked up as the midwife entered the small den, flinching at the sight of her blood covered apron. On Lord Avalon's face it was painted clearly that he anticipated bad news. "The child has died hasn't it?" With a low voice, it was as if the sage expected little else. When the woman didn't answer he stared at her openly.

"No. The child is as healthy a baby girl as you'll find." With a heavy sigh she went ahead. "My lord, I regret to inform you that Lady Avalon did not survive the birth. We would have called you in sooner but . . ."

She was cut off as the sage rose from the stool in a flash, to grasp her shoulders and shake her. "What?! _What_? I . . . NO! _Why_ didn't you tell me?! I could've healed her! I'll go to her now!" The man would've entered the birthing room but the midwife placed an arm in front of him, using her whole body to block his way as he tried to push past her.

"No! Let my ladies clean her up. You don't want to see her as she is!" The midwife put a hand on Lord Avalon's shoulder in sympathy. "I myself am talented with the healing arts. There is _nothin_g that I could do, and _nothing_ to be done _now_. Kelemvor has claimed her. You should take peace in the fact that she gave you a hale and hearty daughter."

Gorion's face was set hard with sharp anger. "I don't care about _the child_! I want to see _my wife_!" His voice came out in a hiss and as Elaine kept herself as a blockade in front of him, the tone became beseeching. "Please . . . "

The midwife relented, opening the door enough to tell her women to cover the mother with a sheet. Once Elaine was convinced it was alright for Lord Avalon to enter, she moved out of his way, wincing as she heard his sharp intake of breath. Walking into the room behind him she saw that the maids did a good job of making Alianna Avalon look decent, in the short time that they had. Mary was missing from the room and the midwife raised a questioning brow as Syranel came up to her.

"Wasn't right, having the little lamb in here with her mother being . . . Well, it just didn't seem healthy. I had Mary take the wee one into the nursery that was already made up." The girl whispered, nodding in the direction of a door that led to a small hallway. Then her young eyes lingered on Lord Avalon who was on his knees beside the birthing table, grasping his wife's hand as he wept openly, without a care for who was watching. "Should I go fetch the babe? Does her father want to see her?"

Elaine shook her head. "No, he does not. Let us go check on Mary and the baby. His lordship needs time alone." Together the two gathered their few belongings and left the birthing room. Behind them, they heard Lord Avalon tell his dead wife that he loved her.

* * *

Streaks of sunlight touched the main road of Ashabenford as the funeral procession made its way through town. Alianna had befriended many and those that grieved for her were high in number. At the front was her husband, Gorion, walking like a man that was lost to his misery.

Two days had passed since the child was born, and Gorion could scarcely believe it had happened. His wife was gone. Gone. That word echoed into his mind, brittle and sharp, it stole his breath and left him in ruins. _Gone_. All that time he was worried that the infant would be born demonic, that Alianna would risk losing her mind and soul to the spawn's sire. Never once had he thought that his lady would die in childbirth . . . but he _should _have. He should have and he didn't and the woman he had loved with all his heart was _dead_.

He'd sent a letter to Suldanesselar, to Alianna's mother, but he didn't even know if the high elfess still lived. Alianna had a falling out with Lady Liriadel Shellaris soon after her human father, Lord Makarios Shellaris, died in battle. Since then, the two hadn't spoken.

For the first few days of the infant's life, Gorion had not looked at her, had not even _named_ her. He relegated her care to a young maiden in town who worked with the midwife, but soon he'd be leaving Ashabenford to make for Berdusk and he'd have to take the child with him. The High Harpers had been informed of the babe's birth and Alianna's death and had summoned him to Twilight Hall. _Lady_ Avalon had not wanted her daughter to be brought up with tests and watched with a wary eye, but _Lord _Avalon could not dismiss the infant's parentage so easily. Her siring might not seem influential so early but someday that tainted blood would rear its ugly head.

The walk back home was solitary and as he went inside there was no one to greet him. Gorion felt his heart clench painfully, remembering a bright smile, a flash of red hair and violet eyes. Alianna had always been happy to see him, no matter what their lives were like. Her smile lived only in memory now.

A black cloak was hung on a small rack near the hearth and the Waterhavian made heavy steps toward the back of the home. He entered the small room that Alianna had made up as a nursery before the babe was born. There the feeling of grief and loss was so strong that the sage had to brace himself against the door frame.

Inside the maid sat, a pretty, young half-wood elf with pale blonde hair and large violet eyes. Syranel by name. She looked up at the sage, offering an insincere smile. It was clear she did not approve of his dismissal of the child, a babe that she had no reason to suspect was not his. Gorion did not care about her approval, in fact he found that he could care for very little.

"She does not sleep well. I put her down but a few hours ago. She drank a healthy portion of Master Auldcastle's formula, and I thought it being warm would relax her, but she keeps tossing in there." Syranel remarked, setting aside a book she'd been reading to peer into a wicker basinet. Almaes Auldcastle, the town alchemist, had readily provided the powdered goat's milk. It could be mixed with heated water to produce a formula that he claimed had a reasonable amount of vitamins and minerals in it. He'd sent over three cases of the stuff with four milk bladders to put it in. It wasn't as good as a mother's milk but, since Gorion had refused a nurse maid that would be able to breast-feed the child, it would have to do.

Syranel smiled down into the cradle at the sleeping baby within. Her appearance wasn't normal for a half-elf, and though not an extraordinarily beautiful infant, the girl was still precious to look upon. "I think she is having nightmares." The maiden remarked, noting that the child's father had yet to say anything.

When he did speak, his voice sounded abnormally loud in the whispery stillness of the nursery. "Babies that young do not _have_ nightmares." Gorion's words seemed faraway and alien, even to _himself_ and he cringed.

"I wouldn't be so sure." Pausing for another glance at the infant, Syranel turned about. "Are you going to be needing my services for the rest of the day milord? I must let my mistress know, if that is the case."

Gorion shook his blonde head, raking a hand through his cropped hair. "No." He sighed and leaned against the door jamb. "The child and I will not be here ere long and I'll be taking care of her myself, while we travel."

"You are going to _travel_? Taking a baby this young? With all due respect, milord, that is most unwise." Syranel frowned as she put her bag up over one shoulder.

"There is little choice in the matter." Gorion dismissed the girl with a wave of one hand. "Thank you for your services, I have left your payment with the midwife."

With a nod and a brief curtsey, Syranel was off, giving one quick glance into the nursery and shaking her head ruefully. Her footsteps faded away as the sound of the front door closing echoed into the small home.

Gorion settled down on the stool next to the crib, not wanting to see the infant. He had half feared she'd look like some demon, similar to her true sire, but of course that was ridiculous. All of her siblings, that Lord Avalon knew about, had been born reasonably normal in appearance. Then he wondered if she'd be the spitting image of her mother, if every time he stared at the baby he would be reminded of his dead wife. He steeled himself and leaned forward to look into the cradle. What he saw gave him pause. Alianna had said she felt connected to the child, even though she'd never seen her, but in that moment Gorion could almost understand. The idea of a person new to the world, innocent.

She was so tiny and fragile, laying there, small fist curled under one ivory cheek. The sage reached down but then drew back, not wanting to hurt the child, but once more the urge struck him and he carefully extended a finger. Stroking the infant's face he marveled at the skin's softness. His palm ran lightly over her head, the girl's downy black hair tickling his hand.

The baby fidgeted and whimpered, turning onto her left side with a sharp cry. Syranel was right. Gorion did not have to wonder what kind of dreams they might have been. She made a mewling noise and tossed about again, tiny legs kicking at her blanket.

With a start, her eyes opened and she looked at Gorion, not recognizing the face that peered at her. In her few days of life the only person familiar to her was the maid. She fussed and whined, afraid and wide-eyed. The sage looked down at her sympathetically. Staring back at him were not twin irises of the common newborn blue, or even the violet of half elves, but a surprising emerald green. She looked nothing like Alianna, in fact she didn't even look like a _half _elf. Tiny points of ears were visible through the fine curls of hair on her head and two small hands went up by those ears, stretching and writhing in the cradle.

Without stopping to think about it, the Harper lowered his own much larger hands into the bassinet to pick her up, keeping her swaddled with the blanket. The girl's young cries were fairly high pitched and the sage tried to quiet her. "Shhh, there, there now." Gorion found himself wishing he'd had some experience with children, but he had none. His only sibling was an older brother, and everything he and Alianna knew from preparation for _this _child came from tomes. She was so small that she was easily cradled against his shoulder, her warm and wet breath tickling the crook of his neck. "Alright, come now little flower, settle down."

That stunned Gorion, that a pet name had fallen so easily from his lips. It was not but a moment before that he had not wanted to see the child at all, and here he was being affectionate with her. He was so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he was shocked to realize the baby had stopped crying. One of her small fists had found the chain of his Harper's medallion and she seemed fascinated by the necklace, cooing as she looked at the pendant curiously. A silver harp held by a crescent moon.

"You like that? Shiny isn't it?" He asked quietly, finding a smile beginning to curl on his lips. Her face was so expressive for one so young, and Gorion was amazed by that. "Your mother was a curious one too, it's how I met her. She'd gone exploring farther in a cave then we were told, the both of us early initiates into the Harpers, and I was sent to go get her." He didn't even know why he'd said that. The baby wouldn't understand. Maybe he had said it for himself alone, but unknowingly he had also soothed the infant; his rich timbre making her relax on his shoulder as she played with the sage's chain.

"You need a name, I think." Lord Avalon remarked. It came to him far quicker than the sage imagined it would. Blending the name of his own mother, Lillith, and the name of the babe's mother would make for a lovely moniker. She was watching him and twining the silver chain in her fingers while he was deep in contemplation. Gorion thought briefly of giving her Alianna's maiden name, but that wouldn't do, not if the sage was going to raise the girl as his own, and he knew then that he would. It was what his lady would have wanted and she had earned that.

"I haven't any idea of what we are going to do next, you and I. One can only hope that our Harper friends will give us aid in figuring out how to best deal with your heritage, Lilliana Avalon." His smile went wider when she cooed at him, as if in approval of her name. That morning he had been thinking of how he cared for nothing at all. Suddenly that wasn't true anymore and against his better judgment, Gorion could feel the first stirrings in his heart for the child.

* * *

**Year: 1368, 16'th of Kythorn (present)**

Ajantis fidgeted with his tunic, finding the material a bit tight. Of course he hadn't gone through _all _his clothing before packing, those many months ago at the Order headquarters in Waterdeep. It never occurred to him that he might have wanted to make sure he'd gotten rid of some of his older clothes. His neck now possessing more muscle mass than it had, shortly before he'd been sent out to investigate the bandit troubles of the Sword Coast. It was quite a change from his wiry youth. A sidelong glance to the tall Rashemite beside him drew a sigh. _What had that one been like as a youngster? _Ajantis could scarcely believe the tattooed berserker had ever been 'wiry'. Perhaps possessing such a large build from birth. Though the young Lord Ilvastarr thankfully knew little of the particulars of child delivery, he knew enough to sympathize with the woman that had born the giant seated next to him now.

It was quiet in the main room of the Jovial Juggler that morning. The locals wouldn't populate the tavern of the inn until their work day was over and most of the Flaming Fist and Order of the Radiant Heart members were out for daily scouting missions. Ajantis wondered silently how many of them wouldn't return and the thought made him scowl. He shared consideration with his Order brothers, but now he found himself on the outside looking in. Ajantis could not help the thought of wonderment at their perseverance in the face of continual failure. Not to mention the anger that boiled in the Waterhavian's veins at the thought of _bandits_ besting a platoon of _knights_. Likely the Fist were suffering the same dejected feeling and yet they were determined.

Dynaheir had arrived late to breakfast, taking pains to apply cosmetics before joining the others. She hardly needed them, as she was already strikingly beautiful , but Ajantis wasn't about to get in between a woman and her makeup. Lord Ilvastarr's brown eyes roamed across the lobby now as Jaheira stepped into the main parlor. Her face had a rare tinge of mirth about it, but whatever had made her smile was forgotten as she surveyed the room, violet eyes going nearly hawk-like as she took everything in. _Putting one to mind of a mother bear surveying her den. _The knight thought, but knew it best to keep such an observation to himself.

"G-Good morning, darling." Khalid smiled with open love, waving his wife over with his left hand as he took a sip of tea with his right. He winced at the overly strong herbs and set the mug down. _How he missed the coffee beans of Maztica! _They were frequently sent in on shipments to Calimport, capital and port city of the desert lands of Calimshan, and the place of the Harper warrior's birth. As a boy he'd had easy access to the beans and the liquid made from them. Coffee being amongst the sundries his merchant father worked with. Master Albin Kostas wasn't much of a paternal figure but he had been one heck of a merchant. Khalid tried to picture his sire's face, but it had been some time since he'd seen the human Calimshite. The man would be long dead now. It was better to think about the coffee but the rich brew didn't seem to be easy to get a hold of up north. He sighed and took another sip of the bitter tea. Jaheira pulled up a seat next to him, leaning over to give him a peck on the cheek before taking a seat, rubbing at a sore spot on the back of her neck.

"Are neither Miss Lily or Miss Imoen to join us as we break fast?" Dynaheir questioned, Minsc's eyes asking the same thing though his tongue was silent.

"In a bit. Lilliana's having someone else along as well, so we'll be waiting until that person arrives." Jaheira informed the Wychlaran, never looking up from where she was stirring the tea her husband had ordered for her.

"What? _Who_? I didn't think she knew anyone in town, besides the mayor of course." Ajantis glanced about him as if the would-be guest might materialize right then and there. There was Sir Armand, who had spoken to the group yesterday but Ajantis had already seen the elder knight depart from the inn that morning. A scowl crossed his face as he worried it might indeed be Keldath Ormlyr, Beregost's mayor, the high priest at the local temple of Lathander, and Lilliana's superior. He hoped it wasn't. The group may have owed the man Lilliana's life, but the pompous priest was more than the knight could handle that morning.

"Some childhood friend. Why don't you just wait and find out for yourself?" Jaheira chided, going back to half mindedly stirring the tea. Her head jerked up at an exclamation from Ajantis.

"As I live and breathe! Anomen Delryn!" The smile on the blonde's face was entirely friendly.

Jaheira followed his gaze to the young human man that approached them. He was a bit shorter than Ajantis but broader in the shoulders. A shock of short and wavy dark brown hair, matched by what looked to be a new goatee on an obviously Amnian face. Jaheira was from the south and she could easily recognize the rigid but handsome features of those folk, even if the Juggler _hadn't_ been populated with them. A pair of stunning sapphire eyes widened when the young man seemed to recognize Ajantis. Though the Amnian was dressed in a simple light blue tunic, shirt and breeches, it was easy to imagine him in a full battle kit, his stance radiating the stiff propriety of the Order and its knights. Jaheira sniffed in distaste, watching as the others took in this new arrival.

"Squire Ilvastarr is it? I am beginning to wonder how many long lost friends Helm wishes me to reacquaint myself with before the end of the week." The young man placed a hand out for a shake, but was embraced in a hearty hug instead.

Ajantis' face was beaming with pride as he announced himself, leaving Anomen's comment on long lost friends momentarily forgotten. "Ah but I am _knight_ now. Though I travel with independent citizens currently, but it is a fair company to be sure." Ajantis grinned, waving a hand over the rest of the group and proceeded to make introductions. He knew that he'd been having some doubts as to the collected honor of _some_ of his companions, but now was neither the time or the place to state such concerns. When he introduced the Harpers, he noted the none-too-appraising look that Jaheira sent Anomen. _Does she always have to be so off putting_? He wondered. With distinction from Jaheira's coolness, there was Dynaheir, who smiled gracefully and raised a delicate hand. Anomen dutifully kissed it, earning a long glare from Minsc before the berserker calmed.

The Amnian turned back to Ajantis, a fleeting tenseness on his face before he replaced it with a taut smile. "A _knight_? Good. I have . . . yet to take _my_ test. I am certain it should be soon though." He added, the sincerity a bit lacking in his voice.

"Ah, of course, of course. You know . . ." Ajantis then spoke at the group, still wearing a wide grin. "Lord Delryn and I met at the Order in Waterdeep. Though he is just a might younger than myself, we both trained one summer under the same tutor. He possesses a great deal of talent."

Jaheira nodded, finally forcing a smile to her face. _Surely _this_ couldn't be Lilliana's friend. _He seemed far too stilted for the girl. The cleric's affection for the knightly persuasion wasn't lost on the druid. However, neither did she think she'd be overly fond of someone as hard faced as the young man before them. Though if Jaheira had to hazard a guess, he was about the right age to be under Imoen's consideration as a child hood sweetheart of her sister.

"This is not _all _of our company, our youngest ladies have yet to arrive. They are indeed very young, but I've come to see that there is strength there. Why our fair Lady Avalon lost her father not long ago and still she manages to smile for us, and her sister, the lovely Mistress Imoen is ever the source of cheerfulness. The bright spot of our company, even on a dreary day." Ajantis continued, Dynaheir smiling up at him. Jaheira rolled her eyes at words she thought to be overly dramatic.

"Lost her . . . Sir Avalon is _dead_?!" Anomen asked in shock, the same stare of disbelief echoed back at him from Ajantis.

"You _knew_ him? _You_ are Lilliana's breakfast guest!" It suddenly dawned on the blonde knight and he nearly blushed in embarrassment. Carrying on and introducing everyone when it had likely been Lilliana's intention to do so when she arrived.

"Indeed, though it has been some time since I last saw her ladyship, her father or her sister. You are right to say they are young. It doesn't seem they should be out on the road but if Sir Avalon is gone, as you say, then it makes more sense as to why they aren't at Candlekeep. I am pained to hear of his passing and I don't wonder why Lady Avalon did not tell me last evening, it must have been a hurtful time." He thought of _his_ mother and _her_ death, after a long illness. Something he had failed to speak of the previous night, and he understood Lilliana's silence on the matter, perhaps more than anyone else would have.

"Yes and she is better served that we don't speak of it when she isn't present." Jaheira interceded, Khalid sharing a look with her though he was more cordial.

"P-Please, sit down so that we m-might order until the girls g-get here." He smiled as the young man took a seat.

* * *

"He's already here!" Lilliana whispered frightfully as all the blood drained from her face. She turned about quickly. "I should rethink my attire, I'm not sure that . . . "

"Oh _no _ya don't! We'd be up there all day, and I'm hungry." Imoen grabbed her sister's arm and pushed her forward until they were both standing in the main room.

"I should have invited him _formally _to breakfast! Instead I just assumed . . . Oh dear! Now he is going to think me rude and wonder why he was forced into joining us without being bidden!" The cleric whimpered, her sister raising a brow at her in amusement.

"You're bein' a little melodramatic, don't ya think?" The red head asked but the half elf acted like she didn't hear her.

Lilliana looked horribly pale, as if she might faint dead away, her gaze horror stricken on the table where her companions were seated. "It was all so different last night, so comfortable and nice . . . But _now_ . . . I can't do this!"

"Bah, sure ya can. Ain't nobody to impress anyway, other than your _sweetheart_." The young thief teased, unable to resist the temptation at ribbing her sister.

"He _isn't_ my sweetheart!" Lilliana hissed at Imoen's smirking face. The idea wasn't repulsive in the least, but it _was_ entirely untoward; picking up suitors without a proper courtship. It just wasn't done and the cleric was working herself up to a right temper thinking about it.

"Alright, then prove it." The red head motioned across the way to where the group sat, still unaware of their presence.

The cleric gathered her simple skirt, moaning once more that she hadn't been able to afford more than a few traveling dresses, and gave an audible huff. "Fine. I will." Her self-satisfied bluster carried her forward until she got close enough to her companions that she could hear their conversation. Then Lilliana found she could barely speak, a sudden panic assailing her. All thoughts of proving her morality fled like a flock of frightened birds from a hunter's field.

"Ah and here they are now!" Ajantis boomed, standing to motion at the two sisters. Anomen stood soon after. Imoen was all full of smiles and hugged Anomen fiercely enough that the young Amnian was near blushing.

"How have ya been, ya lil ramjake? Though you ain't so little anymore. You got _tall_." She grinned, sizing him up in comparison to herself.

"I am well Mistress Voltaire. _You_ have grown into a lovely young woman." Compliments on a lady's good looks weren't as hard to give as they used to be, though more often than not there was little meaning behind them. However, in Imoen's case she was genuinely a beauty. A cherubic and attractive lass to be sure and her warm and impish smile was easily remembered.

He turned to regard Lilliana and found her staring at the floor, and looking awfully ashen. "Lady Avalon, are you alright?"

"What? Oh . . . I . . . I'm fine. I am glad you made it." She stammered, looking at her friend only briefly enough to smile shyly at him. "Thank you for coming to breakfast Lord Delryn."

"It was my pleasure." The squire leaned forward, intending to kiss her hand but she sat down in such a hurry that he could not. Perplexed he stood for a moment but finally took a seat, shrugging his shoulders, as the others were now all seated again. Looking at her he found Lilliana's eyes nearly attached to the table, as she sent him only a few quick glances. It gave him the opportunity to study her features in the sunlit room of the Jovial Juggler.

Last evening he'd been overwhelmed with happiness, a rare feeling these days and Lilliana had seemed to exude a delicate beauty that only increased his joy. Now he found that perhaps his excitement at seeing his long lost friend again had tinged what his eyes had _truly_ seen. For this morning the ethereal beauty he'd _thought_ she had was gone. While the half high-elf was taller then she had been as a youngster, and more matured of face, it wasn't by much. Even Anomen's little sister Moira, at fifteen years upon her, looked more grown up than Lilliana. The Amnian shifted in his seat, feeling a bit uncomfortable at how attractive she'd seemed the previous night. He ought to have remembered that she was a half-elf, a race that aged slower than their human parentage. Lilliana had taken obvious pains to make herself look nice but it did nothing to give the impression of maturity. Such an appearance only furthered Anomen's thoughts that neither Lady Avalon or her sister should be out on the road. It was no place for young ladies of Candlekeep to be when they belonged back home.

The young cleric discovered through conversation that Ajantis had already spoken about her father. Though the details had not been given. It was difficult for Lilliana to say, but she managed to relay the tale, even if it was told in short order. Again the loss of Sir Avalon explained much to Anomen, though the squire wasn't sure why their care was not given to one of the other readers. He said as much and at his question Lilliana looked up at him for only a second before a faint smile graced her face, following a glance to the two half elves that sat across from her.

"The keep _must_ maintain its rules, and I can understand that. For us, that means that without my father's presence, Imoen and I would have had to produce a tome of great value. Alas, we did not have an appropriate tome and do not have one _now_, nor the means to attain such a volume. Being as well that there were persons of ill intent after my father and I, it could have endangered everyone else at Candlekeep had I insisted upon returning there. Forgoing that, it was my father's wish that we meet up with Master and Mistress Kostas and in the event of his . . ." The cleric paused and swallowed, composing herself. "If it so happened that he would no longer be able to take care of me, I was to accompany his friends. I would see that Imoen is with me for as long as she can be, though I left the decision up to her, but we've _both_ decided to stay with the Harpers for the time being." There was brief twinkle of affection in her gaze, long enough to draw a smile from Khalid and look of surprise from Jaheira. Then Lilliana was staring at the table again.

A tavern maid came to deliver some breakfast and took Imoen and Lilliana's orders. The red-headed thief sank back into her chair as if she might relax. After one big sigh she leaned forward with her elbows on the edge of the table and began a series of rapid fire questions, aimed at the young Amnish squire.

"So, whatcha been up to? Gosh, your hair is so smooth lookin', isn't it? Wait, ya prolly don't pay attention to _that. _Silly me. How's the Order been treating ya? Your sis is _how_ old now? She have a boyfriend? I bet she has a boyfriend. Lilliana hasn't had one yet, but I've had a few. Some of 'em weren't _really_ boyfriends though . . . More like flings. Is it flings? I don't know. What about _you_? Not gettin' married or nothin' are ya? Married . . . . Yikes! _That's_ a scary word." Imoen just grinned, barely pausing to take a breath through all her questions and comments.

Anomen sat across from her, blinking as he attempted to take all of it in. A slow smile spread on his face. "Ah, well the Order is a good company of men, whose propriety and treatment of their fellow knights and squires is as suitable as it should be. Most of the time." Thoughts of some of Lord Delryn's least favorite members passed across his mind, but he managed to control any facial reaction to that. As he gave answer to a question about his sister, the smile reached his eyes and it was clear he thought much of the young Lady Delryn. "As for my dear Moira, she is fifteen now and she is doing well, though I do wish she'd spend less time cooped up at the manor and more time with her friends. But she is a wise lass to be sure, which is why she doesn't have a boyfriend. My sister is smart enough to realize she is too young for that." He sent a knowing and almost accusatory look Imoen's way, to which the red-head merely raised one brow at him, her grin persistent.

Then the really uncomfortable question came to the fore, that of Anomen's own married or un-married state. He looked over to see if Lilliana was still staring at the table, but she wasn't. She was looking at him steadily for the first time that morning, her over-bright eyes giving the squire a sense of being glimpsed into and he felt an involuntary shiver go up his spine. "There _were_ ladies who tried to catch my eye, and there is at least _one_ young woman of whom I'm sure would have liked to be the next 'Lady Delryn' but the Order is my first love. I have no intentions of focusing my priorities to that of matrimony, at least not at this time in my life."

Lilliana let out a long sigh, as if she'd been holding her breath and Anomen would have glanced at her then if Imoen's voice hadn't distracted him. The red-headed human appeared considerably confused. "So . . . . is that a yes or a no?" She queried, wondering why Anomen's love of lengthy wording hadn't lessened over the years. At least she could see another attribute her sister was drawn to, since the cleric herself was prone to rather long speeches.

The Amnian smirked, amused. "That would be a no, I'm not married and have not promised myself to anyone."

"Yeah, me and Lil haven't neither. I'm not _ever_ gonna get hitched though, that isn't for _me_, I'm a free spirit." Imoen announced proudly, even patting herself on the chest as if giving a winning oration. She winked at her sister. "Lil might be _someday_ ,though I imagine it'll take a while. What is it ya told me, sis?"

"Anything worth doing is worth taking the time to do properly." Lilliana supplied, surprised that she was able to get the sentence out without choking over it; still looking nervous. After her long-winded explanation of her circumstances, the girl had felt like all her composure was spent on just that.

"A wise bit of advice, Lilliana." Kivan's first words that morning were warm, and it earned him a fine smile. His hazel green eyes were discerning and as he stood from the table he extended a hand for the cleric to take. "I think I will go to the bar and get us all some more to drink, otherwise we might find ourselves waiting out the day for our disobliging server to return. Perhaps you would like to go and see if they have anymore chamomile?" The question was aimed at Lilliana and she nodded, relieved that Kivan had noticed her discomfort and was kind enough to give her a discreet reason for a break.

"Yes!" She exclaimed, sounding suspiciously as grateful as she felt and the others at the table gave her odd looks. "I . . . I mean, yes, that would be agreeable." But before she could take Kivan's hand, Anomen had stood.

"_I _will go with Lady Avalon. After all, I'm the guest this morning and I'd hate for any of you to attend me anymore than you did by letting me join you." He couldn't see the alarmed look on Lilliana's face as she was turned away from him.

Kivan raised a brow and Lilliana sent him sorrowful eyes but she nodded at him as simply as she could and the elf ranger sat back down. "Very well then."

Anomen offered Lilliana his arm and her manners gave her little choice but to take it and try to smile at her friend. _And he IS your friend, so what is wrong with you?_ She asked herself, but she already had an inkling of the problem.

Despite her nerves she was thoroughly impressed when Lord Delryn had remembered what everyone had been drinking and ordered accordingly. "And milady wishes to inquire if you might have some chamomile?"

The woman behind the bar nodded tersely. Anomen was surprised that the tavern maid was so compliant, though he _did _note the contemptuous glare she gave him. Since they'd been in town, the locals, even those that worked at the Juggler, weren't overly friendly. That time though the woman had little choice but to do as she was asked, as the pair was standing right in front of her.

"I could have asked about the tea _myself_." Lilliana was stunned that she felt a bit put off by that, but she _was_ and there was no use in pretending otherwise. Though perhaps she could have made her words sound a little less harsh. A fact she observed when Anomen gave her a sharp and flabbergasted look.

"But why should _you_ have done so when _I _am right here to do it for you? Propriety would have the gentlemen infer the lady's questions so she is not bothered by such minor details as ordering a drink." He intoned, not so gently.

A jolt went into Lilliana's mind as she realized she really _had_ been away from court too long. Though Candlekeep wasn't a true court, it had many of the same trappings and the monks that ran it were entirely proper with the tourists. Lilliana felt incredibly embarrassed that she'd forgotten some of the unwritten rules of her station. Being on the road and traveling with those that, save Ajantis, weren't overly noble surely had something to do with that. Though she couldn't blame it all on her companions, nor would she wish to. The cleric had been lax in her etiquette and that was her own doing. "Ah, yes of course." Lilliana nodded, shying from the inspecting gaze of her friend.

"Being that I just spoke of decorum, I'm not certain I should ask you this . . . but it is eating away at me." Those sapphire eyes of his were dazzling and Lilliana felt a tickling sensation deep in her belly when he stared at her. "Lady Avalon, do I make you nervous?"

Lilliana couldn't look him in the face, as she thought over her answer. She did not wish to lie to him, but the truth sounded bad. She decided on nodding. Better to get it all out in the open. This constant nervousness was too much. "Yes, but this, all of this, my life now . . . It is not what it used to be and . . . " Lilliana sighed. "Last night I was so happy to see you again. Then this morning I wanted so badly to impress you but I . . . I am no good with such things, I _never_ have been. Now I realize that you could look at the changes in my life and think that I'm too . . . rough." She glanced up at him through her lashes.

Anomen wanted to say that Lilliana could never, in a million years, look rough. If there was one person that epitomized softness, it was her. She seemed nervous enough already, so he didn't say that, but he was brave enough to take her hand and he was delighted when she didn't pull it away. "My dearest Lilliana . . . Say what you will, I am your friend and you are mine. Just to see you again after so long exceeded _all_ of my expectations, and so I have none left for you to worry about. I am more pleased than you know to find you again. You need only talk with me, share the life you've had for a few moments so that I might know what you were doing all this time. As your sister asked of _me_." He grinned in good humor and it drew an answering grin from Lilliana. "It would pain me to have you distressed at all over my being here."

"Then I shall endeavor to be more talkative." She gave him a wide smile, her cheeks warming in response to the one she received in return. Then feeling embarrassed, she ducked her head as her voice quieted. "Also I must apologize for not inviting you to breakfast in a more official manner. I fear last evening I was not in full possession of my senses, such as they are." The half high-elf blushed to the tips of her ears when her comment earned her a kiss on her hand. She hadn't forgotten the first one he'd given her when they were children.

"I thank you my lady, but there is no need for an apology." The tavern-maid returned and Anomen thought he should take the tray from her. Otherwise she might surrender to the desire he saw in maid's eyes, to spill the drinks all over him. He let go of Lilliana's hand to grasp the tray himself and the two made their way back to the table, with the cleric more at ease then when she had left.

Returned to the group, Lilliana asked her own questions of her friend, forcing herself to relax. It was no easy task, but Anomen had made his wishes plain and out of respect for him she managed to get past her own nervousness. She was quite saddened to hear of the death of his mother, Lady Moirala. The illness of the lungs that she'd traveled north to ease, those many years ago, had finally claimed her life. Anomen said it had been three years since she had died and he seemed well enough over her passing, but Lilliana knew better. The cleric was familiar with what _that_ kind of loss was like. It had its good days, where you could almost forget you were sad and it had its bad days; those moments where the pain felt so fresh and sharp that all the time that had passed seemed not to have done so. She smiled gently at Anomen, feeling a bit brave in her sympathy, and put a hand over his to give it a brief squeeze.

"You and I share some similarities, would you not agree?" Lilliana asked and Anomen nodded.

"Yes, it would seem that way." What the appropriate response after that might be was unclear. Then someone cleared their throat and they both looked away. Lilliana slid her hand from his and hid it on her lap.

When Ajantis engaged his Order brother in talk of battle, the Amnian seemed more than willing to go on at great length about the subject. Anomen was no end of discussion about his proficiency in combat, and a few of his anecdotes even Ajantis wasn't sure he believed. Lilliana still had her hands folded neatly in her lap but her eyes went wide as she listened to her friend. Ajantis stared at the girl, but the cleric was lost to anything but Anomen just then. The knight could not help but think that Lilliana was quite obviously smitten. Anomen, for his part, appeared to be basking in her wonderment, which seemed a sharp aside from her earlier debilitating shyness.

"In fact my company and I have just returned from a campaign . . . " Anomen began, but was interrupted by Ajantis.

"_Your_ company?" The blonde spoke up. He liked Anomen well enough but he didn't seem to recall the boy ever being so prone to boasting as the young man seated with them now. Then there _was_ a young lady that was being so admiring of Anomen, seated just beside him, and Ajantis realized why the squire might want to seem more impressive.

"Well, the men with whom I serve." Anomen corrected, feeling a bit put out. The Amnian's gaze slid from where it had been directed at Ajantis, to swing about and find the half high-elf's soft face. He could well ignore the whole table if his friend kept looking at him like she was. They weren't seated in the direct sunlight coming through the windows, but Anomen felt warmed all the same.

"I heard about the bar last eve something relating to The Order besting terrible giants that were assaulting villagers near Hills Edge. I'd listened to so many rumors flying around here that I barely caught that one. Were _you_ involved in that battle? Oh you simply _must _tell us about it!" The cleric had her hands on his arm in excitement but she realized her proximity and pulled away, self conscious, a blush tinting her cheeks.

Anomen smiled, sitting a little straighter in his chair. It felt like the lord and lady were talking to themselves alone. Then the squire glanced up at the rest of them and that sensation dissipated. He relayed the tale, skipping over some less remarkable aspects but when he got to his besting of the chieftain he found that for once he wasn't as worried about his uncontrollable rage, as he was proud of himself. With Lilliana's open esteem it was difficult _not _to have a tinge of pride, and it was a good feeling.

"Ya _cut off _his head? Yuck! Gross." Imoen wrinkled her nose, imagining the scene in her mind. She looked over at her sister, expecting Lilliana's delicate stomach to agree with how disgusting that sounded, but she didn't _seem_ disgusted. Instead she appeared to be all full of wistful sighs. Imoen had a feeling something like that was going to happen. As much as she might deny it, her sister was a sucker for a knight in shining armor . . . or squire . . . or whatever. Imoen smirked. "Well, ya sound real strong to be able to do that. I'm sure your superiors musta been proud, huh?"

"Yes, did they give you accolades?" Lilliana asked , keen on the answer.

"Well . . ." Anomen felt sheepish now, knowing that Sir Trawl had seemed to hint that he'd done well enough to receive accolades, but no one had officially given him anything. "Not as yet, my lady."

"They _should_. Such bravery, and all to save your fellows and the innocent citizens of Hills Edge!" The cleric put a hand over her heart. "I wish we could _all_ be so selfless."

Khalid looked at his wife, noting the displeased set to her mouth. Jaheira leaned closer to her husband, Lilliana and Anomen across the table too caught up with one another to pay much mind. Her with listening and him with trying to keep things appealing. "Does she also wish we were _all_ such _braggarts_?" The druid whispered snidely and Khalid simply smiled.

"I have heard that the companions your ladyship has are quite the heroes as well. Sir Armand spared nary a detail." Anomen tilted his head in the direction of the main doors. "He has left already, but I know he wanted to speak with you about offering the Order's assistance with your endeavors to catch these awful bandits."

"We only have a cursory idea of where to look, truly, but I think we would be glad for some help." Ajantis responded, Jaheira sending him a glare which he returned with a hard smile. "_Some _of us may think that we should handle all matters that come upon us without additional aid, but those with sense in this group know that we must do _whatever _we can to defeat this band of brutes."

"We spoke about our plans already, you know they are for the best, that to involve others would be dangerous." Jaheira retorted, her face a tight scowl of anger. She paid no heed to Anomen, who looked between the two of them with uncomfortable curiosity, feeling out of place.

He was not the only one. Lilliana knew that Ajantis and Jaheira had never gotten along very well and she dared not let the argument escalate. To have it do so in front of company would be truly embarrassing. "I think . . ." Lilliana started, flinching when all eyes turned on her. " . . .that perhaps Sir Ilvastarr has a point. Not to say of course that our previous plans did not make a great deal of sense." She gave Jaheira a wary smile. "They did, but what could be the harm in taking at least a _few_ knights with us? I - I am not suggesting a whole contingent, certainly."

The druid was pressing her nails into her palms to keep from yelling in frustration. This matter had been gone over and decided upon after Sir Armand had made the Order's interest known. It had been agreed that to involve others at this late stage could prove detrimental . . . and yet here they were again going over the same thing for little reason. Jaheira did not dismiss the Radiant Heart's noble actions or the fact that they had saved many innocents in their campaigns . . . but so too did they march headlong into situations where stealth would have saved themselves and others. To find these bandits would require not just stealth but deception and to those of a self-righteous nature deception was not something easily enacted. Jaheira knew that _Lilliana_ found it distasteful, even if she'd grudgingly agreed to the strategy. However Jaheira had thought that Ajantis at least saw the sense in their plans. If he did not and they were to add even but a few more of his fellows, with similar thinking, into their group it might be nigh on impossible to accomplish their goals. Khalid reached over to take his wife's hand in his own as she began to speak and he sent her a look that silenced her. He was the more diplomatic of the two of them and she reluctantly calmed.

"We have different methods and I d-dare say that I think our separate groups would work b-better as they are. You might even say that the _Order_ c-could succeed before _we _do." The Calimshite sent Lilliana a brilliant smile and he could see the look of worry on her face smooth out as she smiled back. She knew that their group had a bit more information to go on than the knights did, and for a moment Khalid was worried the cleric would say something, but she did not. "After all, Lord Delryn, your c-contingent has been facing off against t-these b-brigands longer than _we _have."

Ajantis was going to protest but Dynaheir interrupted him. "Thou is right, good Harper. A smaller grouping has a higher likelihood of success. With this Wychlaran and the fine Minsc we already have been stretching thy bounds of thee numbers, yes?" The amber-eyed mage grinned wryly in Jaheira's direction, knowing the druid had times of wishing Dynaheir and Minsc weren't in the group. "Working beyond thee numbers we have in possession already . . . All must see this could be . . . How do you say? Unwise."

Kivan cleared his throat. He was the quiet one of the group and an undiscerning individual might have assumed it was because he usually did not have an opinion. Such an estimation could not have been farther from the truth. The rough and smooth cords of his voice drew attention and the wood elf was favored with everyone's gaze. "I know enough about our quarry to tell you that what Khalid says is the truth. To try and integrate the Order's ways into our own at this late date, even but a few of them, will not help matters. These bandits are organized for their ilk and to fuse very separate methods together would make us erratic. The last thing any of us want to be right now is _erratic_." Anomen was scowling at the Shilmistan ranger and Kivan looked in his direction. "I will tell you, squire, that your knights efforts are wasted in trying to draw the bandits out. You would be better served in sending smaller groups directly into the woods. Avoid the roads."

"Yes . . . " Lilliana nodded_. _"Master Alieradon is right. You should avoid trying to attack on the roads. I am sure if you tell Sir Armand, or your Sir Trawl, this information and that it came from the Harpers they will consider it. Also . . ." Khalid sent her a look of warning that she clearly understood. _'Don't give him too much information!'_ Lilliana frowned, thinking on how the need to keep things from those she cared about was escalating. She wanted to tell Anomen to look north for their quarry instead of south, but the cleric knew the Harpers worried that they would get too close to their own search path. "I think there are hobgoblins mixed in with the regular bandits. Perhaps you already know that, but we were attacked by the creatures when we headed south and they behaved as thieves would. _Brutish_ thieves."

Ajantis sighed, knowing that he probably shouldn't have said anything to begin with, but he was of the Order himself. He knew that the knights could defeat the bandits if they had more information, but in considering the opinions about the table he was outnumbered. The knight had promised himself to this group and he would stay with them until it was done, despite his feelings. Anomen's shoulders sagged across the way and Ajantis wondered if the squire's words would be waspish, but then a strong voice called to him from the doorway.

"_There_ is my squire! We must be away, Lord Delryn." Sir Trawl had just entered the building and he motioned to the young nobleman until he realized he was with company. Walking over the elder knight smiled. "Good morning all. Ah, I had forgotten that you were to take breakfast with others today." Turning warm brown eyes on Lilliana his smiled widened, her features making the girl easily recognizable from the brief description Anomen had given him. He bent gallantly. "This must be the Lady Avalon I have heard about."

"Heard about?" Kivan asked, starting to feel like the group as a whole was getting too well known. Surely it wouldn't help them in matters of subterfuge if they needed such measures in the future. Lilliana might have shared his trepidation but she was too caught up by being introduced to yet a further noble.

"Yes, my squire was telling me about his lovely friend earlier in the morning. I'd gone and clean forgotten." Sir Ryan sent the whole table an apologetic look.

"_Lovely,_ huh?" Imoen grinned and got her sister in the ribs playfully, whispering in her ear and Lilliana turned fairly red. Glancing at Anomen, the thief could see that he too looked embarrassed. _Good stuff. _Imoen thought, amused by the whole thing.

"I regret that we do not have the time to speak." Ajantis looked honestly regretful as he stood from the table to shake the elder knight's hand. At least he'd seen the man earlier in the morning. Ryan nodded at the blonde and put a hand on Anomen's shoulder. The squire was standing as quick as a blink.

"I hate to take him away from you like this, but we've just gotten a lead on where the bandits may be and I will require Lord Delryn's services." Sir Trawl smiled broadly before leaving the group, telling Anomen he'd meet him outside shortly.

"Well there! You see little squire, Boo says you did not even need us at all." Minsc was beaming at Anomen, who looked confused. Lilliana was trying not to laugh at the consternated appearance of her friend's face. To someone of Minsc's size, almost anyone would be little in comparison.

"He's . . .ahh . . . 'special', our Minsc. He means no disrespect by calling you little." She whispered and her breath tickled Anomen's ear. The Amnian nodded at the giant man.

"Yes, perhaps it is so. I am afraid that I must take my leave. I still think it a pity that we could not work together, but I enjoyed meeting all of you and I wish you luck. Might I steal Lady Avalon from you for a moment?" Anomen asked politely, ignoring Imoen's sly grin.

Jaheira sighed, anxious to get going before the day was wasted and they still had yet to pick up a few last things from town. Khalid put his arm around her shoulders as all of the group stood from the table. "Y-Yes, that'll be fine. It w-was good to m-meet you." The Calimshite shook Anomen's hand as he and Jaheira made for the western stairwell. Slowly the others said their proper farewells and drifted away from the table and suddenly Anomen was alone with Lilliana, the rest of the inn nearly empty that late morning.

"Well . . ." The Amnian shifted from one foot to the other.

Lilliana bit her lip, her face feeling very rigid. "Yes, well . . ." She took a sharp breath. "It . . . It was so very lovely . . ." Then she stopped, uncomfortably realizing that was the word Anomen used to describe her to his superior. "N-Nice . . . It was so _nice_ to meet you again." Her hands wanted to shake and she clasped them tightly against her abdomen, a ladylike pose stiff in her frame. Farewells to loved ones were always so awkward anyway, and _this_ was even worse.

"You _will _be careful, won't you?" Anomen queried and when she didn't appear to understand he explained further. "I do not like the idea of you out there with the others. Apart from your sister they are all used to these kinds of things. _You_ are _not_, surely you realize that and . . . no one really said anything about you having fighting skills. I know how devoted to Lathander you are so perhaps it is His conjurations that you use in combat." The cleric was still slight of frame and the squire had a hard time imagining her wielding a weapon, though upon closer inspection he spied the telling swell of slim muscle in her arms. He'd heard the tales of what the Harpers had done at Nashkel, the same Harpers that Lilliana traveled with. Anomen doubted that they'd left her at the inn, so she must have gone with them down in the mines.

Lilliana nodded. Her image in Lord Delryn's mind had probably already been irreparably ruined, no need to tell him about her pathetic attempts with her war hammers. "Yes, I get by. They will keep me safe." She smiled, trying to placate the obvious worry on the squire's face.

Anomen silenced the clamoring in his head long enough to visualize _his_ Lilliana wandering down dark corridors, skin made dirty by soot and other unmentionable things. "You must have become quite the cleric to be able use your Lord's call in battle. I have to admit I would have thought you would be more of a healer than a _warrior_." He finally posed.

"Can't a person be both?" She asked, as innocently as she could, already feeling her cheeks beginning to warm.

"Well, I suppose they might, but you told me long ago that you would never be able to manage in battle." He added. "But I found it clear that your companions didn't seem overly worried about your safety in the fray of the moment."

When her friend didn't speak further, she fidgeted. "I have done what I had to, though the requirement did not come with any kind of manual. I'm still very much at the beginning of what I fear will be a _dreadfully_ long learning curve." Pausing, she gathered her thoughts. "As for my conjurations . . . well, Lathander watches over me and there have been times that I needed something more than a chant to cure wounds. I am not, however, some grand warrior cleric, smiting evil creatures with acts of daring do and shooting thunderbolts from my eyes." Lilliana made an attempt to grin as her sister might do, to alleviate the tension, but she just wound up looking timid. Which as it turned out, was fine.

Anomen grinned wide enough for the _both _of them. "No, I rather suppose you are not. You are far too gentle for that." He saw the red creep up into her pale cheeks like rose blooms and knew he'd embarrassed her.

For all the time that they had been apart, and the few months that Lilliana traveled with the Harpers, she was still a reserved and virtuous young lady. Anomen knew that his image of her in his memories would be forever altered, and yet enough things remained the same that the warmth of his feelings were not tarnished. It would be easy to parcel the half-high elf away into the same place in his heart that his sister, Moira, held. Yet, there remained something different to the bond he had with cleric, that was not, in essence, familial.

The cleric tilted her head, curious as to why Anomen had gone silent for so long, appearing to look _through _her. "My lord?"

"What? Oh . . . I apologize my lady." The nobleman cleared his throat, trying to set himself on a different path of thinking now. "I want you to promise me something."

"Certainly." Lilliana nodded.

"You don't even know what promise I'll ask of you." Anomen was befuddled by her immediate consent.

"I am positive you would never ask me to promise something that is out of my reach." The affection in Lilliana's eyes as she said that was nothing but genuine and it took Anomen by surprise.

Apart from his sister and Sir Trawl, there were few other people that had trusted him so openly. "Alright then. Promise me that you will be careful, no matter how talented your companions are, or how much faith you may have in your conjurations to keep you safe. Watch out for yourself. If something were to happen to you . . ." He trailed off, a sudden tightness in his throat at the thought making it difficult to keep speaking.

Lilliana knew well what Anomen must have been thinking. In her haste to reassure the squire she put a hand to his cheek as she did the previous evening. She gazed at him sweetly. "Nothing will happen to me. I'll be fine, truly I will." Her hand dropped. "I promise."

Before the half high-elf could clasp both hands together again, Anomen took hold of the one that had been on his cheek and curled her fingers with his own. He kissed her knuckles firmly, far more intimately than the passing courtesy of a lord to a lady. Lilliana's heart thudded almost painfully in her chest and she could not move or speak for her shock as his warm lips ran across her hand. The lord himself stared up at her from where he had bowed, and his eyes were dark with an emotion that Lilliana did not recognize. When he said her name, it was not with the proper inflection he had used last eve and all this morning, but with a ragged whisper.

"Lilliana . . ." Each syllable of her name was almost wrung out of him as he imagined her dying and not being able to see her again. Never knowing how she had yet to mature and to change. Anomen felt as terrified as he did in his many nightmares of his sister dying, but deep inside the feeling was not the same. When she'd so kindly promised to be careful he'd meant only to lightly kiss her hand, nothing more than what he had done before with many other ladies. However when his lips touched her skin an irrational desire to do more than that flared to life in him, inexplicable as it was. Now he had done something terribly improper and they were not even in a private place. Though blissfully there were few patrons about. Wanting to apologize he stood to his full height but Lilliana was not red with embarrassment as he'd expected. She was stunned. Her lashes were down low, casting a shadow in her eyes and the girl's face seemed impossibly near to his own. It was as if someone had lit a dark candle in her gaze and Anomen was but a moth. Instead of voicing his regrets at his inappropriate action he stepped closer, enough so to catch the scent of tea on her breath.

Anomen took a stray strand of her hair and began rubbing it back and forth between his thumb and forefinger. It was just like the lock Lilliana had given him before he'd left Candlekeep. "So soft." He whispered, smiling gently. The Amnian understood then that he wanted to memorize her, in case he never saw his friend after today. Her hands, her hair, her face. Anomen did not want to forget such things. Unconscious of his actions he had taken to caressing her thin fingers, the skin pleasantly smooth to the touch where _his_ had some calluses from long hours of practice and battle.

The cleric knew this wasn't like their child-hood, with their young giggles, chaste kisses and silly dreams. This was something else entirely. Her nerve endings quivered with a peculiar and burning sort of anticipation. Lilliana's mind, one that was so set on propriety, was at a loss right now. "I use chestnut oil with my hair, it makes it softer." Her voice was as whispery as Anomen's. He was so close that she was having trouble forming logical thoughts. The sapphires of his eyes were boring into her and she had the strange sensation that he was peering into her soul. _What did he see there? _

"I _like_ chestnuts." Anomen smiled again, with no idea why his voice sounded so seductive in his own ears, or why he hadn't stepped away like a decorous gentleman would. A tavern maid came to clean off the table the group had been sitting at but he barely noticed. He should have stopped this, whatever it was. He should have used the maid's appearance as an excuse to part ways. They were standing in a near empty room, but _anyone_ could walk in at _any_ time. Their proximity was entirely innocent, though . . . _wasn't it? _Still, it might not have looked it to a stranger's eyes. More than that, Sir Ryan was waiting for him. It was surprising to Anomen that right now he couldn't care.

"Oh?" Lilliana's breath was light and airy, as if she would soon laugh but she didn't. "It is . . . hot in here." The simple dress she wore felt so light when she'd put it on, but just then she felt like her skin might have been aflame beneath the fabric.

"Yes. It is." Anomen moved forward, closing that last bit of space left between them. The lavender powder Lilliana used gave off a strong, sweet, spicy fragrance. At this closeness the scent wafted in tantalizing tendrils up Anomen's nose and he bit back against a moan. She had looked but a simple kind of pretty and still quite young. That's what the squire had deduced at breakfast . . . _Why then does she appear to be so grown up, so lovely now?_ A pang of comprehension hit him through the haze of his thoughts. It was her eyes, in which there burned a promise of beauty yet to blossom.

Something tense and buzzing was in Lilliana's belly and she almost squirmed. The lobby was uncomfortably warm, and she should go to the cooler quarters of her room. Jaheira would be upset that she'd taken so long saying goodbye to Lord Delryn. Her lips were dry but she dared not move to re-wet them. Finally she had to.

Anomen's skull felt like it was full of hot broth, sloshing about and making it impossible to think. His legs wouldn't move even though he damn well knew this nearness was indecent. The lord could not grasp how he'd managed to get so close or why he wasn't capable of moving, apart from his fingers still caressing hers. She licked her lips and all that hot broth ran out of his head, taking his common sense with it. Her movement had set off something in him and he kissed her without warning. Instead of recoiling, Lilliana kissed him back, her lips pliable beneath the firmness of his own.

"Hey! Take it upstairs if yur so hot for each other!" The tavern maid squawked. It was hardly anything more than a simple kiss but the maid's tolerance had reached its end. "Damn Amnish." She hissed under her breath.

Lilliana jerked away, her brain finally dislodged from whatever hold had been on it. Her face was hot and awfully flushed. Shaking with disbelief and mortification she leaned against the table, the tavern maid glaring at her as she headed to the kitchen with a tray of dirty dishes. It couldn't have taken that long to clean. _Had it really been so short a time that they'd been standing there? _It felt like an eternity. She didn't even know what to say, and that same surprised shame was on Anomen's face.

"My lady! I didn't . . .I did not mean to . . ." He started towards her again and she flinched. He stopped in his tracks, head hanging low. "I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me."

"No! That is alright." Lilliana's laughter was shrill and nervous. "Clearly it was . . .a . . . gaffe. A mistake, that's all." She closed her eyes, too uncomfortable to stare at Anomen. "Very improper of me, _very_!"

"It was _my_ fault, my lady, not _yours_. The heat was getting to me." He thought it was a reasonable explanation, now that he had the coherency to mull over it.

_Heat_. Well yes, it did feel quite stifling in the common room. "Not _just_ yours, but it's fine. It shall be like it never happened." Lilliana smiled but knew it was a pretty poor one.

The young nobleman shook his head, the smile he gave in turn fairly repentant. "No, my lady . . . I do not think it is possible to just forget about it." She looked at him with sharp surprise and his voice caught in his throat. "I . . . you . . . " Anomen stumbled over his words. He had to leave soon, or risk further embarrassing himself "Good luck, with your group and . . . be careful, please."

Lilliana nodded, wanting to hug him but not daring to. "Good luck to you too my lord, and I shall be _most_ careful. Fare thee well."

Anomen opened his mouth but closed it again, nodding. "Yes, fare thee well, till next we meet." While he still had his senses, he turned on his heel and headed for the front door of the inn. He looked back before he left the building and Lilliana was still leaning against the table, her hands on her flushed face. "_It shall be like it never happened."_ She'd offered him a very generous out, and he should have taken it. The sun was hot as he opened the door to the approaching noon. Lathander might have been very cross with a follower of Helm daring to kiss one of _His_ clerics and was cursing Anomen with the warm rays. The squire rubbed a hand over his mouth. He could not in good conscience take her offer to forget the whole thing, because it would have been a blatant lie on his part.

Ryan Trawl looked up at his squire from where he was sitting on a bench under a large tree. "Lad, you look almost ill."

"I am fine, Sir Trawl. It is just this blasted heat, it does things to a man's head." Anomen shook his skull for effect.

The knight laughed. "Indeed. I'll be glad to see this day over. The evening will surely bring some respite."

* * *

Imoen was sprawled out on the bed with her boots off. They had a lot of tromping in the woods ahead of them. Who knew when she'd be able to freely wiggle her toes again. The young thief was taking the opportunity while she still had it. That and the girl had done everything she could think of doing and was bored. Looking out the window, the sun was getting very bright. _When was Lilliana going to get back up here? _Then again her sister did have a way of giving excessive flowery speeches. She was probably telling her precious squire how she'd never forget him, how she'd carry him in her heart over her long journey. Imoen giggled herself silly for a good while over that one. Lilliana sputtered and got snippy about it but Imoen knew she was keen on Anomen. Anyone with two functioning eyes in their head could see that much from the way she was fawning over him at breakfast.

The door came open and Lilliana stumbled through. Imoen quirked a brow at her sister's peculiar expression. "You okay? Ya look kinda . . . sick or somethin'"

Lilliana's face was flushed as if she'd just got done training with Ajantis, and her eyes were dazed. She made her way over to the closet, searching for her traveling bag.

"I already got your knapsack packed for ya. I was waitin' up here _forever_. What took ya so long anyway?" Imoen asked.

Lilliana's eyes finally located her traveling bag on the lumpy mattress. "Sorry, I was . . . I lost track of time."

"No kiddin'" Imoen snorted, but her sister wasn't reacting to being teased. All humor fled from the red-head's face. She swung her legs off the bed and padded across the floor, putting a hand on Lilliana's shoulder. The cleric almost leaped out of her skin and Imoen reeled back. "Woah! You really _aren't _okay are ya? Did he say somethin' to you? Make you upset? I'll go break his legs!" Imoen frowned, thinking her sister must be emotionally hurt in some way.

"_Say_ something to me?" Lilliana asked, putting her hands to her cheeks. They still felt warm. "No. I'm just . . . That common room was so _hot_." She fanned her face as she opened her bag, looking for the container to put her hair pins into. It was very nice of her sister, and unusual, for her to have packed Lilliana's traveling bag but now she had to go digging for her things. She couldn't very well wear her dress, sandals and jeweled pins on the road.

"Really? I thought it was pretty cool, considering how blistering the sun must be outside. Are ya nauseous then? Hey! Maybe it's poison. That tavern maid _was_ givin' us the evil eye. She could've put somethin' in your tea!" Imoen chirped, not happy at the idea, but glad that there was a sensible explanation.

Lilliana finally smiled, her head slowly coming out of its fog. "Imoen, no. I am perfectly alright, I just need to get changed."

Imoen narrowed her eyes at the other girl. "There's somethin' ya aren't tellin' me. I can see it on your face."

Sighing, the cleric sat down on the bed, letting her long hair come loose as she plucked the pins from it. Once they were all put away, and she'd run a brush through her locks, she started on a braid. "He kissed me."

It had come out so quickly and quietly that Imoen almost didn't catch it. Her red brows furrowed in confusion. "Huh? Like your hand?" Then she rolled her eyes. "Lil, he's gonna be a _knight_. That's what they _do_, kissin' ladies hands, savin' kittens, killin' giants. Stuff like that. I don't know why ya have to get all bothered about it." Imoen huffed as she sat next to her sister, handing the cleric a long simple pin to keep the end of her braid attached to the crown of her head. The thief reached down and grabbed her own boots, yanking them on over dusty gray leggings. She hated the color but Jaheira was pretty adamant that Imoen couldn't wear her normal pink attire in the woods. "Let me guess. He kissed your hand, told ya what a fair lady you were and ya got all _embarrassed_ thinkin' it would be 'improper' to enjoy the attention. Lil, I gotta tell ya, sometimes this fascination you got with courtly rules is kinda . . ."

"No, Imoen, I mean he _kissed_ me." Lilliana turned and stood to untie her dress, hands working nimbly. Imoen probably would have helped her if she hadn't been so taken aback.

"_What_?" The red head almost croaked. She was trying to catch her sister's gaze but Lilliana wouldn't look at her. "Like a _real_ kiss? On the mouth and everything?"

Lilliana nodded as she tossed her dress aside and pulled on a pair of women's traveling breeches. "Yes and that isn't the worst of it . . . I kissed him _back_. In the middle of the room, in public. Can you believe that? _In public_! As if it wasn't reprehensible enough to be kissing a gentleman that isn't courting you, it had to be in the lobby! The tavern maid broke it up by yelling at us. I'm so ashamed of myself, and I am certain that _I _was the one that must have done something to cause it . . . somehow."

Imoen fell back on to the bed, paralyzed with laughter.

"It is _not_ funny!" The half high-elf admonished as she tugged a muslin shirt over her head.

When the human had finally recovered her cheeks were wet with tears of mirth. "Oh yes it is. It's _hilarious_!" Imoen's face was pulled tight with the huge grin she was wearing. "You're always so appropriate and demure and _he_ seems pretty righteous and proper himself and there ya were, the two of you. Makin' out in the middle of the common room! How 'bout that . . . Just when I'd given up that you'd ever stop being so stiff 'bout everything."

Lilliana tugged a little too tightly on the strings of her corset and gasped, hurrying to loosen them. "Imoen . . . It wasn't like that. It was an _accident_!"

"Accident my arse!" The thief snorted, ignoring the flabbergasted look her sister sent her for her foul language. "Ya don't 'accidentally' kiss somebody, you either do it or you don't."

"Well, it doesn't matter. It was highly irrational and _very_ unacceptable. It must have been the heat and I don't blame him." Lilliana sniffed, looking in the mirror to make sure everything was on straight. "Oh, but what must he think of me now? I have to seem like the most rough, improper, low class girl he knows! Lord Delryn shall never want to see me again . . . and how can _I _look _him _in the face knowing that we embarrassed ourselves in public like that? Luckily the few patrons around didn't gawk at us or say anything. I might've _died _from the scandal! " Lilliana moaned and pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes.

"I'm sure it ain't _that_ bad. With all the war-talk brewin' 'round here, ya think anybody gives a flying fig 'bout a couple nobles kissin'? That wench just wanted to give ya a hard time, it's not like she'll go gossiping 'bout it." Imoen shrugged as she laced up her boots. "This might come as a surprise to ya, sis, but just a regular plain 'ole kiss is not some 'big drama'. For _you_ maybe, and for Anomen too possibly. For the rest of the world, it ain't nothin'"

"It _is_ most assuredly 'something' to _proper _people." Lilliana reiterated, and Imoen gave her a dirty look. "Now, Imoen, you know that I have _never _looked down on you for not being a courtier. You are my sister, I love you regardless." The red-head smiled and Lilliana felt at ease. "There was an odd thing though . . ." She looked thoughtful. "I did not feel bashful at that moment, even when I knew we were standing too close. I just felt all strange and light headed. I could not even move for the longest time."

Imoen sighed wistfully as she began to twine one of her strawberry blonde ringlets. "Yeah. It was like that with me too. Especially with Shistal. We were both so shy and you woulda' thought we'd be all nervous . . . but I think maybe ya just know what to do by instinct and it sorta takes over and then that's all there is. You even forget where you are and it is just the two of ya." She cast knowing spring green eyes Lilliana's way. "Even if you're standin' in a common room."

"Perhaps." Lilliana considered it. "I fail to understand why _he_ initiated it. I know I look younger than twenty and plain of face. I was sure he would think of me as a little sister now. It _had_ to be heat. What other explanation is there? It came out of nowhere!"

"Were ya bein' all nice and sweet to him, like you were at breakfast?" Imoen asked.

Lilliana nodded.

"Were ya smilin' at him all timid like ya do?" The thief asked, secondly.

Lilliana sighed. "I suppose so."

"Well there's your answer. Some guys go nuts about a gal that's all meek'n'mild." A thought crossed the red-head's mind. "Ya know, you should get kissed more often, then maybe ya wouldn't be so uptight 'bout it. _I've_ kissed lots of boys. Helps ya get over bein' nervous."

Lilliana shook her head and laughed at her wild sister. "Yes, you have quite the long list of broken hearts in your wake. If I did not know you better, I would be worried for your virtue. Then again if you ever did _more_ than kissing, the unlucky fool that got caught with you would find himself hanging from the main gate of Candlekeep . . . by his thumbs like as not."

"Not his _thumbs_." Imoen winked suggestively and giggled as Lilliana swatted her again. The red head grabbed her own knapsack and slung it over her shoulder. Everyone was to regroup in the Harpers' room before they left and they'd better get going now that Lilliana was all ready. "Oh, and by the way . . . If ya really think he just thought of you as a sister, obviously your wrong, 'cause boys don't go 'round kissin' their sisters . . . unless you're from Chult."

Lilliana and Imoen both laughed over that one. "You are awful!" The cleric scolded, smiling through her words but there was something yet bugging her. "I was raised better than to kiss him in turn, however. Maybe the heat was getting to _me_ as well."

The thief grasped the other girl's shoulders and looked her in the eyes seriously. "I'm your sister, so I'm gonna lay down some truth here. You liked him when you were younger, you found that you like who he is _now_ too, he's good looking, he's your type and he kissed ya so you kissed him back. Thee end. It ain't anymore complicated than that." Imoen patted Lilliana's shoulder as she headed for the door.

She didn't balk or pitch a fit. Instead a wry grin spread on the cleric's mouth. "You turned into a sage when I wasn't looking."

"Nah, I just have a good influence." Imoen smiled and kissed her sister's cheek.

"I told him it would be like it never happened, as if we could simply get over the whole thing." Lilliana sounded pretty sad about that and her sister put an arm around her as the cleric grabbed for her traveling sack.

"Yeah, well he's as likely to forget about it as _you_ are, and ya ain't gotten over it _yet_. How was it anyway?" The thief asked.

"How was _what_?" Lilliana raised a brow.

Imoen snorted. "The _kiss_, ya knucklehead. How was it?"

"Oh . . . well, it was nice." Lilliana smiled wistfully.

"'_Nice'_, she says." Imoen rolled her eyes. "Don't ya got a more _excitin_' description ta use?"

"It was _very_ nice." The cleric grinned. "Now come on, we should get going before Jaheira bites our heads off." Lilliana pulled the human girl along after her and the two were gone. Behind them in the vacant room, the inn's pillows sat at the head of both beds, all sewn up. When she was bored, Imoen was quite industrious.

* * *

**Year: 1350, 1'st of Mirtul**

Khalid Kostas was panting, his long sword, Nithryon, held in a quavering grip. Behind him there was a roar and bits of stone fell around the half-gold elf and his companions.

Gorion Avalon turned to him with a grin. "I'm certain that will hold Firkraag. For all his bluster, I sealed the cave up well." The sage nodded, hands still warmed from the enchantments he had used to bring the rock all down atop the massive red dragon. "Still, once we get out of here I'm going to ask the townsfolk of Berdusk to bring some explosive powders and further seal it up. That should keep him!"

Khalid nodded. "L-Let us hope so!" He had been sent out with a group of five other Harpers, including the sage, to subvert the machinations of the ancient wyrm that had threatened the Heartlands. Gorion had come along since he had experience with combating dragons. A task Khalid knew the man had been knighted for when he was younger. The half-elf warrior had himself never faced a drake or their kind until that day and he was wild with the adrenaline. It had been a fierce battle and the Harpers were lucky to escape alive but they had been unable to fell the beast. Gorion was the one to decide on caving in the large cavern Firkraag had holed himself up in. With all of Sir Avalon's magical skills he'd caused one heck of a cave-in.

Now Khalid only worried about escaping from the rest of the cavern before it too crumbled. He rose to his feet, thinking about his wife. It was Mirtul Day, a day for lovers and children and all things spring . . . and here he was in a cave with dirt and bruises all over him. Jaheira and Khalid had been married for over forty years, but he looked forward to seeing her as if they were still newlyweds. While the druid half-wood elf was also in the Harper organization, she had been sent elsewhere. Though the two had plans to meet back up in Athkatla once they were done with their tasks. As his booted feet ran for the thin mouth of the cave, he recalled her beautiful face and smiled despite how tired he felt.

Once they were outside, Gorion put his hands on his knees, wheezing from the mad dash. At thirty-eight, the sage was in his middling years and healthy. Now he was acting like he was a hundred years old, which was a great many years for a human. Compared to Khalid's half-elven one hundred and seventy-eight it was perhaps not so much.

The half elf grinned at his friend. "That w-was a quick run w-wasn't it?"

Winded, Gorion sat down on the smooth stone of the mountainside, enjoying the view and the fresh air. "I dare say we were lucky to get out of that mess. I wonder now if Galvarey did not wish me to fail, though it seems far too deceitful, even for _him_." The man's eyes narrowed as the two friends made their way from the other three Harpers. Gorion had lowered his voice but there was still a sharp edge to it.

Khalid glanced behind him to make sure they weren't being listened to. "You d-do not c-care for him?"

"Galvarey is far too ambitious for a Harper and the tests he is suggesting for Lilliana . . . they could hurt her. He knows I would object. I almost refused this journey you know, worrying about how she might be taken care of in my absence." A late sunset was sending orange color across Gorion's pale face as he took a seat at the cliff edge. He could hear his companions settling down farther back, taking a moment of rest before they headed down the mountain and into town.

"B-But surely you trust the others?" Khalid raised one copper brow in question. Afternoon sun lit his hair like it was fire from the dragon they had just bested. He knew this kind of worry, he had heard it from Sartonis Alieradon before he'd defected from the Harpers.

"I trust _you_, my friend, and Jaheira. I always will. You are good people. I trust Elminster, though even _he _has his days. My concern lies in how much influence Galvarey has over the minds of others, namely the High Harpers." Gray eyes glanced back at their companions as Gorion lowered his voice another notch. "I worry that Lilliana frightens them, and in their fear they will be hasty with their decision; with what they do with her."

Khalid had met Alianna's daughter a year ago, as did his wife. That had been the only time and after that it seemed that whenever Khalid and Jaheira were in the same Harper hall as Lilliana and Gorion, the girl was kept hidden away. Tales were all Khalid had to go on and the Calimshite had heard _plenty_ of those. Many of them suggested that Gorion thought of the girl as his own and was far too protective over her. From what he had seen the one time he did meet the girl, that rumor was likely true. Gorion had been carrying the child on his back as if he were a pony while she'd giggled with joy. "W-Well, it _is_ a frightening t-thing to t-think about, her heritage." Khalid responded, looking at his friend with wary violet eyes.

"Hmm, yes, but it is what it is and matters are not helped by _fearing_ the child." Gorion might have said more but then one of the others called to him and he rose, offering Khalid a half smile as both men stretched their limbs for the long walk ahead of them.

"Y-you really love her, d-don't you . . . the girl?" Khalid asked with no small amount of wonderment. He knew what Gorion's attitude had been before Alianna gave birth and it seemed at odds with the sage's current outlook.

"Yes, I do." Gorion's voice had gone tender, but it quickly became serious, though no less heartfelt. "She may have been born _His_ child, but she will always be _my_ daughter. You can rest assured of that."

* * *

Storm Silverhand, in all her long enchanted human years, had never been blessed with a child but her love for children had never faded. Though this girl she was watching, _no one _ought to grow close to. Some of the other Harpers worried that Storm, like Gorion, would become too attached to the girl and wouldn't take her task as seriously, but in the end the child was still left to her care while Gorion was away. The Harper bard wondered if the sage would have left on a mission if it had been someone other than Storm. She swept a long braid of platinum hair behind her as she watched the two year old intently. Alianna Avalon had been friends with the bard from Shadowdale, and perhaps that trust extended through to the half-elf's husband. Then again, perhaps it did not.

Athkatla was wrapped in bright sunlight that day, as Abeir-Toril was well into the spring month of Mirtul and the days were getting warmer and longer. The noon sun beat down on the worn stone of the Harper's secret hall in the City of Coin. Smells from the docks drifted into the barred windows of the second-floor library the toddler and bard were in. Storm hated that they had to put any kind of bars on them, but it was a necessary security precaution. At least they could be opened to let in some air. Lilliana had been cooped up inside for weeks and Storm's requests to take the girl for a walk outdoors went ignored. A rustle from the open window caught the woman's attention and she glanced up with sharp eyes. A large golden hawk had perched itself at the sill, having fit through the bars and was watching the little girl that was staring at it with equal interest.

"Lilliana! Come away from there!" Storm got up swiftly but at the same time was caught up in an almost ethereal feeling, something the bard could not place but felt as if it were tangible. It was permeating the room like a soothing hand.

The hawk stared with golden eyes and made a noise akin to a chirp. Lilliana toddled over to it, smiling in serene thrill at being this close to the bird. "Lathander!" She giggled as Storm stared, her mouth fallen open in shock. A pair of little hands reached for the bird and it amazingly let Lilliana stroke its feathers. Such a wild bird wouldn't normally be calm enough to allow a human to pet it. Then the hawk flew away, leaving Storm stunned and Lilliana pouting.

Before the bard could process any of it, there was a loud knock on the door. When Storm went to open it, the face of Galvarey Andronicus was there to greet her. The twenty-eight year old human seemed to have a perpetually downward set to his thin mouth as of late. His dark blonde hair and pale blue eyes would make him a good looking man if he didn't scowl so much.

"I've called Lord Bran Skorslun of the High Harpers here. Something has to be done about that girl. He'll want to see her as soon as he gets here, I'm sure." For the first time in awhile, he was smiling.

"_Something has to be done_? Galvarey, I was under the impression that we already _were _doing something about Lilliana. Why is Lord Skorslun _here_? Surely if the High Harpers wanted a meeting they could have sent an emissary, or beckoned us to Twilight Hall." Storm was frowning, perplexed and a bit wary. She knew a few members of the High Harpers, though her sister Lady Alustriel had defected shortly before Khelben Arunsun had. Storm herself had been in consideration to be added to their ranks, but now she wasn't so sure. To send just one of their number here with little warning seemed very odd.

"Don't you worry your pretty head about it, my dear. You'll see, in good time." The tall Halruaan strode into the room and looked down his nose at Lilliana who was sitting on the floor with a pile of alphabet blocks in front of her. She smiled at him and went back to her blocks. "Looking at her you'd hardly think she was so dangerous, would you? Her sire was clever to choose such a form for His demon seed."

"Shh! Keep your voice down, she'll hear you." Storm scolded. Galvarey had never bothered her much before, but as of late he had gotten on her nerves.

He was a young impetuous wizard from Halruaa, and young wizards from that nation were not known for their congeniality. When the mage had first joined the Harpers it had been at the behest of his father who had also been a member, though now the senior Andronicus was dead. Having been born in Halruaa's capital of Halarahh, Galvarey had grown up in a rich city full of nearly ninety percent humans with great magical talents. It clearly frustrated him that his own skills were not as quick to be perfected as others. Being that as it was, perhaps it was not so mysterious that Galvarey bore a grudge against Gorion Avalon, who was very much talented in the magical arts, and coming from the city of Waterdeep did not have highly magical roots.

Gorion was well thought of amongst most Harpers and that too got under Galvarey's skin as he thought that _he_ should hold more favor, since so many of his family members had served. Now with this business of Lilliana before them it was even more frustrating that Galvarey couldn't get all of his fellows to think as he did, as some of them still trusted Gorion's judgment.

If they had killed the child then her soul would've gone to her father, Galvarey knew that to be true . . . but there were alternatives to keep her from ever embracing the dark destiny that was before her. As long as Gorion had held favor with the others, the Halruaan worried that no one would see reason and do what needed to be done. _Today that was going to change._

Storm was watching the man with wary eyes and Galvarey eyed her right back. "What is it?"

"Has anyone been teaching Lilliana about the Pantheon?" The bard queried.

Galvarey was a bit surprised by the question, but he scoffed at it. "And give her easier access to her father? I think not. _You've_ been the one in charge of most of her lessons and tests anyway, so why are you asking _me_?"

"There was a hawk, perched itself right on the sill and it let Lilliana walk up to it, even let her pet it. Then before it takes off, she says 'Lathander' clear as a bell." Storm's confusion was mixed with awe at how easily the two year old's pronunciations skills were coming along.

Ice blue eyes narrowed to slits as Galvarey stared at the girl in question. If she were to say the name of any god it wouldn't likely be _Lathander_, that was for certain. He sniffed in disdain. "Clearly she heard someone else say it around here, the child's got ears like a . . . " He paused.

Storm snickered. "Like a _hawk_?" She offered and Galvarey waved the suggestion away. Somehow the bard didn't think anyone had said the God of Light's name as there weren't any Lathanite Harpers at this particular hall. "Maybe she is just divine-touched."

"_Her?! _Step into the realm of reality Storm. That child might become many things if we don't take preventative measures, but something she will _never_ be is blessed by the _goodly_ gods. Lathander would not want a Hell spawn like her to be one of his clerics! She's the daughter of one of His enemies!" Galvarey hissed, at least keeping his voice down. "_'Divine-touched' _What an absurdity!"

"You don't know that and you didn't see that hawk, it was so . . . strange. The room was filled with this presence . . ." Storm went on, looking thoughtful.

Galvarey rolled his eyes. "You've been sitting in the sun too long. In any case as much as I'd _love_ to waste my day discussingridiculous ideas with you, I have _important _matters to attend to. Please see to it that she's ready soon. I have word that Gorion has returned to Amn and I want this business over with before he gets back to Athkatla." With that the man retreated, holding his head as if he were king on high.

Storm was beginning to dislike him. Immensely. She had several centuries on the man and Galvarey behaved as if she were younger than _he_ was. Once the mage left, Storm went over to where her charge was playing with the alphabet blocks. She kneeled down to the toddler's level. "Lilliana . . ." The girl looked up at her with bright eyes. "Can you say 'Lathander' again for me?"

A head of dark ringlets nodded vigorously. "Lathander!" She twittered out, looking supremely proud of herself.

"Who said that name to you? Your papa?" Storm was speaking, of course, about Gorion.

Lilliana shook her head. "No. Bird!" She grinned widely as she pointed at the still-open window.

"The one you pet?" Storm asked for clarification.

"Bird told me." Lilliana informed her guardian as she went back to her blocks. She began to hum low in her throat.

Storm grabbed her chin lightly to force the girl to look at her. "The _bird_ told you about Lathander?"

Lilliana nodded.

Storm gave the toddler a placating smile. "Lilliana, birds can't talk."

"No, no talk." The half high-elf put her small hands over Storm's mouth and then tapped the woman's temple. "Head-speak."

"Head-speak . . . The bird was talking in your _head_?" Storm mimicked the girl's actions.

Lilliana nodded again.

The bard leaned back on her heels, deep in thought as Lilliana played. Storm got up and went to the corner of the library, hunting for a book on scions, the beast servants of the gods. Finally she grasped the firm binding of the tome she sought and eagerly flicked through its pages. The first page Storm went to was for Bhaal. _His_ scion was a monstrous looking creature, more of a demon than a natural animal, though there was a notation that crows also served the Lord of Murder. Storm went secondly to the page for Lathander and her silver eyes widened.

On the parchment was a drawing of Lathander's symbol and below that His scion . . . a golden hawk. Storm's gaze went to the open window, clearly recalling the bird that had seemed so unnaturally attentive with Lilliana. A warm sun was casting rays into the library and it almost seemed like they were trying to touch the toddler seated on the worn rug. Storm shook her head. _Silliness, that was all. Imaginings brought on by a long day._ Nonetheless, the hawk she'd seen looked exactly like the drawing in the book and there _had_ been an ethereal presence in the room with that bird there.

Lilliana's sharp squeal nearly made Storm drop the tome.

The young half high-elf got up in a rush, the alphabet blocks tumbling about her bare feet, and the little dress she was in fluffing up as she tried to run towards the door. "Papa!" She shrieked in delight as Gorion Avalon hoisted her up and swung her about, giving her a peck on the nose.

"There's my little flower! Oh but you've grown." Though in truth it had only been a little under a month since he'd last seen her. "Soon you are going to be bigger than _me_!" The sage's normally serious face was transformed with love.

Storm put the book away and walked toward the pair slowly. So much for Galvarey's wishes to have his meeting before Gorion got back.

The sage was holding Lilliana, her arms wrapped around his neck and her cheek nuzzled against his shoulder. He turned to smile in greeting at Storm. "You've taken good care of her I trust?" There was a note of worry in the man's voice that made the bard feel a little put off but she nodded all the same.

"Of course. We've had a busy time testing her ability to learn new words. She hasn't quite gotten the spelling of them down just yet, but I'm sure that will come soon. Lilliana is very intelligent for her age." Storm smiled at the two year old. She thought for just a moment that she should tell Gorion about their feathered visitor, but then realized he would just worry and it wasn't as if Storm knew for a fact that it was Lathander's scion. She left the library instead, knowing Gorion would likely want some time alone to spend with the girl. _To the Hells with Galvarey's wishes._

Oddly enough he followed her out of the room, still holding Lilliana. "Galvarey has Skorslun downstairs with a few others. Storm . . ." Gorion reached out to put one hand on the bard's shoulder, the other arm wrapped firmly around the toddler. "I think you should stay away from that meeting." There was a look of solemn warning in the sage's gray eyes that gave Storm Silverhand pause. "This is a matter between myself and the ones that are awaiting us. I know they wished to act _without _my presence, and that fills me with unease. It is only on Tymora's whim that I got here in time. You are soon to be considered into High Harper ranks. You're a good woman, and I'd hate to see any ill ripples affect _you_." When Storm only stood and stared at him, Gorion softened. "I fear this may be the last time we see one another. Take care of yourself."

"Gorion." She called out to the sage. "Watch the little one closely. Lilliana is a special child, and I mean more than just her siring."

A slow smile spread on the lord's face. "I know."

Then they left, and Storm watched them go around the corner, sighing deeply. The sound of Galvarey's angry voice followed her until she got out of earshot.

* * *

**Year: 1368, 16'th of Kythorn (present)**

The weight of Lilliana's hammers were pressing against her back. She'd gotten use to their bulk. However, as she looked at how easily Ajantis or Minsc would carry their massive swords she imagined that she'd never be as used to _her_ weapons as they were _theirs_ . . . and just maybe, she didn't _want _to be.

Jaheira and Khalid were inside the smithy picking up some last minute arrows and bullets. Lilliana was left to wait with the others outside. The sun was bright and she smiled and held her mouth open to take a deep breath. On days like today the cleric could almost _taste_ Lathander's presence. It was like a honey-wheat roll, warm from the oven with a dollop of butter on it. Lilliana's stomach grumbled, though she had eaten not too long ago.

Then as she stared across the square her stomach lurched with a very different feeling. Anomen was with Sir Trawl and a small group of other knights and squires. They were all standing near a sundries stall, probably stocking up for their scouting mission. Lilliana felt her mouth turn down long before the guilt sunk its claws into her guts. She had loyalty to her companions and apart from Ajantis they seemed to all think there was a better chance of success if they acted without additional aid. The cleric had to stand by them, and it had been explained in a way that should've made it easy to agree. Ajantis had been unhappy with that decision, and if _he_ could get over his displeasure and go along with the group, Lilliana should as well. However, as she stared at the small gathering of knights she felt just awful about them not being included and not being able to tell them where to look.

Behind the half high-elf her own group was waiting outside the smithy and Lilliana turned her head to look at them. They were all dear to her. Minsc and Dynaheir she was not as close to, but she still called them her friends and she was eager to learn more about them. Ajantis was a wonderful man, and though she'd gotten over her crush she still found him the most estimable in the group. Kivan had once been impossibly stoic and difficult to know, but he'd let her in and she cherished that. Imoen, her beloved, sweet, harebrained sister, held a large corner of Lilliana's heart . . . and then there were Khalid and Jaheira who slowly but surely Lilliana had begun to think of as extended family. The cleric felt guilty for being torn between her love and loyalty for them and the feelings she had for Anomen and admiration that was there towards the Order. With a dismal frown her eyes found her Amnian friend again, and she sighed.

She wished her father were there to counsel her, make her feel better and tell the girl what she should say and to whom. Gorion Avalon had seemed to always know what to do, what the right course was. Even after his passing his last wishes, to meet up with Khalid and Jaheira, proved to be the correct path. Lilliana had not been sure that first day with the Harpers, but now she knew that to have done anything else would have been folly. _'I miss you, Papa.'_ She lamented in her head, looking skyward and pressing her fingers to her lips to blow her father a kiss, where he surely was in the Heavens. The sun warmed her face and Lilliana smiled. Lathander was her father as well, in His grand way, and He was there to bring her an inner comfort, though she still longed for Gorion. Taking strength from her god, Lilliana asked Ajantis to hold her war hammers, telling him she wanted to try and buy some tea for their journey.

At first her booted feet felt so heavy on the cobbles that Lilliana feared Anomen and his group would leave before she reached them. Then as she drew closer it became easier to walk, her heart set on what she had to do. She could not stand to leave without things settled between them, and she had to re-direct the Order to the north. It was the right thing to do and if she caught the Hells from Jaheira, so be it. With the weight against her back removed, as she had handed off her war hammers, a pang of guilt struck her again. Why couldn't she bring herself to let Anomen see her with her weapons? Wasn't letting the squire see them _also_ the right thing to do?

"_You are a coward my sweet, _you_ know it and _I _know it. Afraid to let Anomen see that you aren't the perfect little lady anymore, afraid to tell your friends what you remember from that tomb."_

"Who said that?!" Lilliana asked out loud; that voice from before teasing at the edges of her ears. Before she'd dismissed it as her conscience and perhaps that was all it was. Somehow though, that whispery voice had sounded _male_. Shaking her head, the Lathanite made herself keep walking. Anomen looked up, blinking into the sun and then he stood completely still as if someone had turned him to stone. Lilliana knew that he'd spotted her coming towards him. She swallowed past a lump in her throat and plastered a smile on her face.

"Lady Avalon! We had thought you would be gone by now." Sir Ryan gave her a short bow of greeting. A tall blonde man that reminded Lilliana vaguely of Ajantis, also bowed but looked at her with curious raised eyebrows, a pair of hazel gray eyes making him appear a tad severe.

"Ah, hello, good sir. I spotted you over here and just felt like there were some things I should tell you." Lilliana addressed the elder knight, going right for her goal._ 'The sooner it is begun, the sooner it is done.' _Her father used to say.

"My apologies. I realize Sir Ryan knows you, but I fear _I_ have not had the pleasure, myself." The tall blonde put a palm out and Lilliana grasped it for a handshake, but then the young man_ kissed _her hand instead. Anomen glared at the blonde with poorly veiled contempt.

Suddenly Lilliana felt more awkward than she had to begin with. "Lady Lilliana Avalon, I am a friend of Lord Delryn's." She nodded politely at the man.

His eyes slid almost imperceptibly to Anomen's face, the brunette looking very displeased at the moment. The blonde smirked so quickly that Lilliana almost missed it. "Sir Cadril Valencia, and I must say that I would not expect the squire here to procure such a delicate friend. I rather thought he didn't get on well with ladies." If there was any malice in his words, it went undetected by everyone except Anomen.

"I get on fine with ladies . . . The _nice_ ones at least." Lord Delryn retorted, that same pretense of congeniality hovering at the surface, but between the two young men their hostility was thick.

Cadril took that as a slight against his affianced, Lady Irlana Dalryan. He was going to say something to put the squire in his place, but Sir Ryan interceded.

"What is it you wish to speak to me about, Lady Avalon?" The older man asked politely, easily silencing any further arguments between Cadril and Anomen.

"All of you, actually, all in your Order." Lilliana rubbed a booted foot against the cobbles, gathering up her scant courage before it left her. "My companions wish to act unhindered by anyone else, but I do not think the Order such a hindrance. However I must tell you that we cannot join our own methods together, in that at least my group is right." Lilliana took a deep breath as she garnered the attentions of the other few knights and squires that were standing with Sir Ryan, Sir Valencia and Squire Delryn. "Perhaps you will not take my word at its face value, I am after all just a girl, but I am hoping that you can trust that this information comes from the Harpers, those much more knowledgeable than myself."

"Why then do _they_ not give us this 'information' that you speak of?" Sir Valencia asked, open wariness on his angular features.

"Because they do not know I've come over here to parley with you and they would not approve." Lilliana admitted with reticent honesty. She felt her timidity trying to worm its way up her throat, but she pushed past it. "You ought not look south for the bandits, or even westward into the Heartlands. My companions have come upon information that suggests the bandits are more likely to camp to the _north_, near the woodlands of Peldsvale and Larswood, in the center-most region of the Woods of Sharp Teeth. That is where you should concentrate your efforts."

Sir Ryan was blinking at Lilliana, at first unable to respond as she enlightened them. Then he found his words, bowing to the young lady again. "I must say miss, that I am intrigued as to why the Harpers you traveled with did not want to share such a tidbit, but I suppose that is neither here nor there. Certainly I shall bring this information to the rest of our contingent." Then as he turned to leave he stopped, smiling warmly at the girl. "Thank you, dear lady."

Lilliana beamed after him, feeling light hearted. Cadril looked very surprised but he covered it up well as his own squire came up beside him, bag of sundries in hand. "Ah, yes, thank you." His own smile was not as radiant as Sir Ryan's, but certainly still nice.

The elder knight had not gotten far before he motioned to Anomen, who was staring at Lilliana. "In a moment Sir, I must speak with the lady. I shall meet you at the camp anon." That seemed to satisfy Sir Ryan and he nodded from a distance, moving off with the rest of them.

"That was most unexpected. Are they not going to be cross with you for this, your group?" Anomen asked, trying not to be obvious as he observed Lilliana's traveling attire. She looked quite different from the shy maiden at breakfast, but her face was the same.

"I imagine they will, yes, but I could not have let you go off down south when you are better served going north. It would not have been the right thing to do." Lilliana nodded politely at a merchant that was staring at the pair, and the man appeared to realize he was being rude and went back to his work.

"Well, you have my thanks. You are charming Sir Ryan right out of his boots." Anomen infused some dry humor into the situation, trying to make it more comfortable as he was feeling very strange there with her. Especially after what had passed between them.

"It is not _Sir Ryan _who I wish to charm." Lilliana returned, surprising both herself and the Amnian. Her eyes widened with the shock of her words and she blushed. The merchant at the sundries stall was staring again and she looked at him pointedly before taking Anomen's arm and steering the squire toward a short alley. The end of it saw the pair standing in a small garden courtyard.

"What is the meaning of this, my lady?" Anomen was wary, glancing at the alley that lay behind them now. Short buildings made a sort of wall between them and the street, the alley serving as the only means in or out of the courtyard. The air was heavy with the fragrance of the apple blossom trees that provided the area with shade. Anomen wished he could be thankful for the break from the hot sun, but he did not know what the young lady was on about, and that put him on edge.

Lilliana started to speak, letting a rush of apologies flow from her lips as they clamored in her brain. She stopped as she felt Lathander's calming presence in her veins. His words sat nestled in the cleric's subconscious. _In chaos bring thee tranquility, in doubt bring thee certainty._ Lilliana relaxed her posture, letting that calm settle throughout her body, soothing her nerve endings. If she began babbling like an idiot she'd never say what she wanted to say. "I did not mean to suggest that I was charming you. I meant only that I wished to assure you of my friendship." An apple blossom fell loose and tickled her face as it made its descent. Lilliana rubbed at her itchy cheek before continuing. "To leave this awful apprehension between us . . . that grieves me _terribly_. You have not left town just yet, and I have to believe that means Lathander has given me another chance to right one of my wrongs."

"_Your_ wrongs?" Anomen scoffed, feeling a bit of latent anger directed at himself. "_I _am the one that stepped too close and took liberties that were not mine to take. To kiss you like that was _highly _untoward and the fact that I committed the act with a dear friend, who is not just a nice lady, but such a young one as well . . . It does not speak highly of my honor."

"I am just as guilty as you are, so if it makes _you _dishonorable so too does it affect my _own_ honor in kind." Lilliana dipped her head, drawing in a breath of composure and went on. "Imoen and I . . . we spoke about . . . well, you know, and she thinks that it wasn't 'a big dramatic event.'" She smiled in humor. _Gods bless her darling little sister. _

Some of Anomen's guilt was ebbing away in light of Lilliana's demeanor. "And what do _you_ think, my lady?"

"_I_ think that perhaps my sister is right in that you and I over-reacted because of our upbringing. Do not mistake me, my lord, I have _never_ regretted that courtly education, but maybe it _is_ the cause of shame over something that was not so terrible." Lilliana looked up. "_Was_ it?"

"No, not so terrible." He smiled. She was still looking rather pretty, even dressed in traveling garb. Anomen was thinking maybe it was not just the heat that made him imagine as much earlier.

A short bubbly laugh escaped from Lilliana's chest and she wanted to hide her face in her sleeve, but forced herself to stand straight and regard her friend. "Well, that's . . that's good." She was feeling nervous all over again. "T-That isn't what I meant to speak with you about, though. I wanted to say . . . I wish this unease between us did not exist." With that phrase, her resolve was bolstered. "The following days are uncertain at best and if I do not see you for some time, the _worst _thing would be to have our parting words be stiff with anxiety and humiliation." Eloquence was better served by someone with a strong voice for it, but you worked with what you had and Lilliana thought it sounded fair enough. What was more, she meant every word.

"What would you say then of a proposal to maintain our friendship by . . ." Anomen thought to compliment the lady's fine articulacy with something equally as nice. "Leaving our cares for this previous afternoon behind us, certainly not _forgetting_ what happened but moving on to let bygones be bygones?" The offer was left to hang in the air.

Lilliana grinned, quite happy, and took up that offer. "'Let bygones be bygones' Yes, I like that. So . . . we have an accord then, to leave our embarrassment at the door, as it were, and go on being friends?"

"Yes, I believe we do. Shake on it?" Anomen placed a wide hand out and grasped the one that was extended to him. Though hers was much smaller, it seemed to fit in his palm nicely.

'_Coward, coward, coward._' That wretched voice teased, but Lilliana wasn't going to let it win, not this time.

As her hand slid from his, so too did the smile slip from her face, the look upon it expectant of an ill reaction. "In the interests of friendship and the honest disclosure that such a relationship should entail, there is something else I must tell you. Something that I was too ashamed to make known before."

Anomen's happiness seemed to fall off a precipice. Words like that rarely proceeded _good_ news. "You can tell me _anything_, my lady." He said, and he meant it.

"Your inquiries as to how I managed in combat were met with honesty that was . . . wanting. I feared to say anything because it does not make me seem ladylike and in _your _eyes, I would wish to appear _nothing_ but decorous. However, to maintain that image would also be to maintain a sort of illusion, because it is _not_ just the conjurations of Lathander that keep me safe within the bounds of my own reach." The cleric took a long, deep breath. "I use two war hammers in combat. With those weapons I have killed enough creatures that I can feel myself becoming desensitized in a way. I've even taken enjoyment from some of my small victories." Lilliana winced and the absence of any pride in her voice was absolute.

The squire was flummoxed for a few moments. "I do not understand. You use two _war hammers_? But you are so small!" He tried to imagine it and failed. "Are you telling me that you can swing about these big weapons with little effort?"

Lilliana's laughter was brittle in her fear of Anomen's further responses. "No, no of course that isn't what I'm saying. In fact, I'm not terribly good at mastering them. When I chose that first war hammer, it was out of some stupid, girlish fancy. I thought it was pretty and then later I became entranced with a war hammer we liberated from an evil cleric. Lord Ilvastarr thought that the use of dual hammers would even out my posture, but it took a large amount of practice to lift _just the one _and so when I _did_ start carrying two the training for that was double. Still I've yet to become the mistress of my own weapons . . . but I don't want to."

"What do you mean, you don't want to?" Anomen still did not know how to process what he was hearing, let alone his reaction to it all.

"I feel self-respect over my accomplishments thus far, both the things I've learned and the differences I've made, however small. There have been people that required aid and I was able to help them alongside my companions, who I care for very much. I do not regret meeting any of them, but there have been some bad experiences in there as well and they offer me reflection on this kind of life. That which is lived upon the road, almost becoming a mercenary existence. But I . . ." Her voice fell. "I do not _yearn_ for this and it does _not _suit me." She smiled sadly, tears pricking at the corner of her eyes. "When I was younger I had dreams of adventure the same as any child, but I'm not a child anymore and life is not a book. I just want to go home, I want my old life back. I miss my gowns, I miss all those wonderful tomes and I'm _begging_ you to try and not lose your affection for me, because of what I've been thrust into out here."

He stepped closer and rubbed the tears off her face with his thumb, smiling at her as he finally found his words. "Lilliana, don't cry. You shouldn't feel saddened over necessity. You've done what you needed to do, and it would be ridiculous indeed to expect that you wouldn't enjoy _some_ of these events and encounters." Anomen went on, keeping his tone even and smooth. "I admit that it does not fit the image of the fine Lady Avalon, to be running about with two war hammers and hurling them around." A humorous smile lit his features. "But you seem to realize that yourself and I do not know why you should have felt shame over such an admittance. You'll see the end of this soon, you could _today_ if you left your companions. You could stay in Beregost with your sister and earn some coin with less _involved_ missions for your church, surely. Then when you had the money to purchase a fine tome you both could go back to Candlekeep."

Lilliana bit her bottom lip. "No. I wish I that were possible, but no, not right now at least. I have to see these bandits brought to justice and so too do I have to bring the man that murdered my father into court to pay for his misdeeds." She stared at Anomen as seriously as she was able. "I know that it must seem like I'm creating my own misery here, but I've set these tasks on myself and under Lathander's gaze I will see them done. It would be a great disgrace indeed to leave them unfinished to satiate my comfort. My relaxation_ after _all this business is taken care of will be my reward." The cleric shifted her gaze nervously. "But I would _hate _for you to think less of me because of it."

Anomen shook his head. "My lady, there is _nothing _you could say to me, _nothing_ you could reveal of yourself that would steal away my affection."

"Nothing?" Lilliana asked meekly.

"Nothing." Anomen smiled and wrapped her in a hug. Over her shoulder his face appeared a little worried. The Amnian wished his friend would reconsider and remain in town. Beregost was no paradise, true, but maybe after the Order found these bandits, Lady Avalon would go back to Athkatla with him, where it _truly _was safe. She could stay on at the Lathanite temple there, where she'd never have to fight again and she could buy all the books and dresses that she pleased. For now though he knew he had to leave the decision up to her. Through all her timidity there was a stubborn streak in Lilliana that Anomen could recognize as similar to his own. "Nothing at all."

* * *

**Year: 1350, 3'rd of Kythorn**

"Avalon! I should have known you'd return sooner rather than later. Where is that stuttering chimp you took with you?!" Galvarey all but shrieked, Bran Skorslun looking stoic beside him.

"If you are so _unkindly_ referring to Master Kostas, he is meeting with his wife in private elsewhere in the city. You may leave them out of this, the matter is between you and I, Andronicus." Gorion stated simply, never loosening his hold on his daughter who glanced about her nervously. She'd start crying soon, he knew. Gorion wished there had been time enough to get her out of here before now, but it was the eleventh hour and the choices set before him were few.

"Leave the child with _us_, and you may consider the 'matter' settled. We have all come to an agreement that you are too close to the girl and can no longer discern the correct path." Galvarey motioned a hand across the few companions he had. Apart from himself, no one looked all that certain.

Gorion took a small step forward, malice burning in his gray eyes. "_Correct path_? You mean that it is restorative to the great balance for you to torture a little girl?!" He hissed.

Lilliana was getting scared, hiding her face in her father's cloak, small hands clutching at the fabric. She was young, but she knew these adults did not like each other and their voices frightened her. The toddler whimpered against her father's shoulder.

"Torture?" Galvarey laughed. "Gorion, really, my friend, this has gotten out of hand. We have spoken only of _containment_, there is no _torture_."

"You call burying Lilliana alive, humane and just? And you are _no_ friend of _mine_, Andronicus. If this is the decision of the High Harpers, then where are they, why was this meeting not held at Twilight Hall?" The sage demanded.

Lord Skorslun stepped forward then, raising his hands as if to command silence between the two men. "Not _all_ of our members were in agreement with this solution, but I am a High Harper myself and my word carries the same weight as any one of their's. I understood the haste required in this situation, so I offered to come to Athkatla, instead of dragging everyone to Berdusk." The man sounded weary of explaining himself, as if that were not the first time he had to. "Lord Avalon, this is nothing that we would consider in the long term, but think on it as a test. If she has the power to free herself in a month's time then we will know that she is dangerous. If she cannot, then we will remove her from the sphere ourselves." He stated, trying to smile.

"A sphere that you plan on burying so far in the earth that she may as well be encased in the Nine Hells! Do not play me for a fool, Lord Skorslun. I dare say that I think you are acting outside the bounds of the Harpers." Gorion spoke of 'the Harpers' as if he were no longer one of them, and he knew in his heart that he wasn't. "Why else would you be the _only one _they sent? Is it any wonder that the one High Harper that Galvarey is on good terms with is the emissary standing before me now? I think not and do not seek to convince me that it was your own 'good nature' that brought you here." Gorion stepped away from them, glad that he'd left his items at an inn down the street. He'd felt this moment upon him for some time. "She's just a _child_! What is wrong with you?! I will not allow this, you will _not_ hurt my daughter. Lilliana isn't a monster and I won't let you treat her like one!"

The toddler didn't dare peek from her father's cloak, whimpering in fear. She did not like all these loud angry words, and the ones she could recognize didn't sound nice at all.

'_It will be alright, Lilliana. I am here with you.'_

She smiled at the gentle voice in her head, her whisper left unheard with all the ruckus building about her. "Lathander."

"We will stop you by force, if necessary. It is my wish that you will listen to reason." Skorslun tried again, Galvarey looking intent where he stood beside him.

"Reason is not something to be found _here_. Khelben was right about the lot of you. You have lost your compassion and I can only hope that the _good _members that yet remain can make it past all the twisted ideals that preside here today! For love of the child, I must go." Gorion turned on his heel. He grasped his Harper medallion and tore it off, letting it fall to the floor.

"You will not leave!" Galvarey shrieked, hurling a host of magic missles at Gorion's back even as Bran shouted at him to stop, wanting to avoid violence.

It was in a blink that the sage turned his body to shield Lilliana and reflected the missles back at Galvarey. The Halruaan gasped in shock as the spell hit him in the chest and he skidded backward on the tiles. "YOU!" He fought to get back to his feet, wheezing.

The other mages acted like they were wary to make a move, Gorion's eyes just then were more frightening than any monster. Slowly they came around, Skorslun leading the casting. "You have forced my hand!" He shouted, sounding almost repentant.

Lord Avalon had no time to think and was glad he'd planned things ahead. Lilliana seemed oddly at peace and her lack of crying helped the sage to concentrate. He fumbled in his pocket, feeling the hum of magic in the room send static through his hair. The sage was certain they would not cast anything that killed Lilliana, but they could very well kill _him_ and without Gorion around, she was in danger from the others. Long fingers grasped the flask at last. Sartonis Alieradon had placed a powerful elven potion within it and the enchantment tingled through Gorion's hand even as he threw it to the floor. He made a run for the doors as the blast sounded behind him. Galvarey's screams followed him outside but he wasted no time, he only ran for the carriage he'd set up.

The powerful potion hadn't severely harmed anyone but it did make them all unconscious for quite awhile. Galvarey was the first one to wake up, and the rest of them came around shortly after. He motioned to the few other mages he had with him. "Follow them, you fools!"

They did, but it was too late. The sage was long gone.

Lord Skorslun stooped to pick up the fallen medallion. "It seems a pity. He was such a strong member of our organization."

Galvarey snorted. "Not _anymore_, not that he ever was once that fiend was born." A thin reedy smile turned up the Halruaan's lips. The others would see now what Gorion had become, what that child had turned him into. A madman that would attack his own fellows. "He can't run forever, and we'll get her back and do what needs to be done. No matter how long it takes. On my _life_ I will serve the great balance."

-


	14. Chapter Thirteen: The Wrong Decisions

**Disclaimer:** _"Forgotten Realms: Baldur's Gate" belongs to Bioware, TSR, and Black Isle Studios. Lilliana is mine and situations that you don't recognize from the game are mine, all other material and inspiration for my material is under copyright by the above named. Additional Forgotten Realms material included in this story but not in the game belongs to Wizards of the Coast. _

**Words From the Author: **_At first this chapter was only the first section of a much larger chapter, but as I began to realize how long it was getting I've separated the one huge chapter into two smaller ones that I hope are easier to read._

_For anyone that's curious, the month of Kythorn is comparable to the month of June in 'our' roll of months. I've put a Faerunian month chart on my profile (listed under 'Extras') so you readers can access that whenever you want. _

_Later on you'll see the term 'The Sight' It's a reference to the precognition abilities of gods, which is also why it's capitalized even if in the middle of a sentence. Those pesky gods and their pesky grammar. :p_

_I've also lessened what letters Khalid stutters on, because I'd like to use more dialogue with him, but sometimes it's difficult to read. So let me know if lightening up on just how many words are stuttered makes it any easier on you._

_This chapter is dedicated to my dear friend Claire, who hopefully will take the time to read this author's note ;) She can always be counted upon to occasionally pester me about updating, :p, but she is more appreciated than she knows. The next chapter should come a great deal quicker, being that I have just a few more sections at the bottom to finish and some editing to do._

_As always, thank you dear readers, for joining Lilliana on her journey!_

* * *

_**Chapter Thirteen:**_

_**The Wrong Decisions**_

* * *

**Year: 1368, 17'th of Kythorn.**

**A**ndaren was a simple man, just a boy orphaned at a young age, who grew to adult hood with his uncle, learning how to farm the land. When his uncle passed away, he inherited the farm and married, but he had no children. Though as their lives were wanting of offspring, their _land_ was fertile and he did well enough. The farm was situated near Ulgoth's Beard, a small ways north of Baldur's Gate and he sold portions of his crops to merchants that would take the produce back to the city.

It was the beginning of summer and the tomatoes would be getting ready, the vine leaves hanging over red juicy orbs. His mouth watered just to think about them. As early morning still draped its shadow across Toril, Andaren looked at his moon soaked fields. The next evening it would be the full lunar cycle. He'd always liked a full moon, paying no heed to the nightmarish folk tales that accompanied them.

"Andaren, it's late, what are you _doing _out here?" Marissa smiled at her husband. She placed a hand at the crook of his elbow. "Come back to bed."

"I thought I heard something . . . beyond the west field." Narrow eyes peered in that direction, but there was only the barley swaying in the breeze.

Marissa stared with her own eyes, but saw just as little as her husband. "It's nothing. Now come on, there's much work to be done later and you haven't gotten nearly enough sleep."

Andaren grinned. "Is it that, or are you anxious to have your way with me?"

"A bit of both, mayhap?" She smiled back and her husband let her tug him inside behind her.

Marissa let out a gasp at the shadowy figures that stood in the kitchen upon their entrance.

Andaren was on the defensive immediately, reaching for the nearest weapon, a large pitchfork set just inside the door. "Who are you and what do you want?!"

A massive man stepped forward, frightening black marks on his deeply tanned face, a bald skull host to a pair of eerie golden eyes. He wore little armor, but carried a nasty looking two-handed sword.

"You were _so close _to me, and I could barely sense you. Though considering how pathetic you are, that isn't so hard to believe. A _farmer _. . ." The bald man shook his head in disgust. "Why did our father bother siring such _useless_ vessels? If you were to be lambs at the slaughter from the start of it, the least he could've done was make things interesting. I don't even need my armor for you."

"_Our_ father? I have no brothers and I've no qualms about defending my wife and home from _your_ kind. What do you want, brute?!" Andaren demanded again, the pitchfork held as a sword in front of him.

"But you _do_. You have a great many siblings, though I hope the rest of them prove better sport than _you_." He sneered, golden eyes glowing with repugnance at the waste of the Lord's seed before him. "I am your half brother, Sarevok, and I've come to get some use out of your life, by taking it!" He sneered and lunged at the man, the pitchfork falling to the ground as Sarevok easily avoided it and plunged his blade through Andaren's gut.

Marissa screamed and ran for the door but two black clothed men grabbed her. "Andaren! ANDAREN!" She sobbed as they threw her down on the table.

The farmer had slunk to the floor in a growing puddle of his own blood. Sarevok hovered before his brother and touched his dying face. The warlord's eyes rolled back into his head as he absorbed the man's essence for his own. When he was done and Andaren was dead, the body began to fall apart into dust.

Marissa watched, horrified, as she was held down.

"My lord, do we have to kill the wench right off or can we have some good times first? It'd seem a shame, she's such a pretty thing." One of the black clad men asked, leaning over to lick the woman's face. She shrieked and he slapped her.

"Do what you like, but be quick about it." Sarevok stepped over the ashes that had been his sibling and stood out on the porch, looking at the gibbous moon. Tomorrow evening it would be completely full and brilliant. _That little whelp will finally see her end_.

Behind Sarevok there was the sound of his men having fun with the woman as she screamed. He didn't listen and he didn't care.

"How many of them do I have to kill before I am granted your power, Father? How many of them will be such milksops?" He asked of the empty air. As always, there was no response. His sire only answered him in his dreams. "Soon I'll harvest all the souls I need and then you _cannot_ deny me your throne. It is my birthright."

A whisper traveled across the faint wind, a voice dancing in it. '_My son . . ._' Sarevok closed his golden eyes, a pain he would not show hidden behind his lids. It was _her_. She would permeate his unconscious mind, haunting presence unbidden. Long blonde hair falling as a waterfall, as pale as her fine skin, the only marring, an ugly gash around the neck from the garrote that had been her death. With blue eyes as dark as a bottomless sea, she would watch him with pity. In those dreams that were not of his sire and his own legacy, _she_ would be there instead, and of late her appearance stalked his _waking_ mind, making the Sembian wonder if he was going mad.

"Mother." From such a strong man, the whispered title was spoken weakly, and in the voice all that Sarevok might have been was laid bare. Behind his closed eyes, she smiled through the darkness, and the early morning breeze brushed the warlord's face as if it were her touch. A low growl, born of frustration, traveled up his throat and he walked off the porch.

In his adolescence, Sarevok had discovered one of Rieltar's many journals. The man was obsessed with minutiae, and in one of them so too had he written an in-depth account of the killing of his wife. Blatant but never enough to make it clear that _Rieltar _was the one to kill her, but Sarevok had every belief that his adopted father was a murderer. Lanais Anchev had been described in stunning detail, and from the words her form had taken shape in her son's mind. He had been unable to get rid of the woman after that.

"My lord? Where to next?" One of Sarevok's men emerged from the dark cabin, the other behind him, a bit of blood on his vest.

"The woman?" The warlord asked, voice devoid of emotion.

"Dead." They both informed him.

Sarevok nodded, starring out at the fields for a moment in silence before motioning them onward. "Back to the Gate. I've matters that need my attention." With that, they left, and in the Sembian's mind he could still see her and no matter how many of his siblings he killed, their blood never washed away Lanais' form from his mind.

'_My son . . .' _The breeze whispered, only for him, and that time he ignored it.

* * *

**18'th of Kythorn.**

They'd been a day out of Beregost and one evening of Jaheira's cold shoulder was starting to give Lilliana frost bite, despite the mugginess in the early summer air. All those past hours the cleric had attempted to make conversation, but she was snubbed away. Always with a believable excuse; _'Hush, child, I am listening to the forest.'_ She was back to being coined 'child'. On more than one occasion, Lilliana half wondered if she was imagining it. Then the druid would narrow her violet eyes at the girl, and it was clear it was going to take more than some simple apologizing to earn forgiveness.

It likely didn't help that the young Avalon knew that not all her motives were for the benefit of the Order alone. The cleric was sincere in that she should have been honest about what she was intending as soon as the thought festered. It was poor timing, but the decision to share locale information with the Order was, in Lilliana's mind, a just and right one. _How could she be sorry for doing the right thing?_ Yet at the same time, her selfishness to impress upon Anomen her worthiness for his friendship . . . It might have made her actions not _entirely_ principled. Her thoughts couldn't center fully on that matter though, as the woodlands were distracting the girl.

Some chiggers were in the long grass and the cleric stopped every few moments to scratch at her calves through her thin leggings. For all she knew the only bloodthirsty bandits in the Woods of Sharp Teeth were the insects. Gorging themselves on her blood and stealing her sanity with the discomfort they caused. There was a 'scritch, scratch, scritch' noise against her clothes as the cleric itched.

"I can't say I'm that fond of insects myself, but listening to Jaheira, I suppose they serve their purpose."

The low and pleasant chords of Ajantis' voice hit Lilliana in the back and she turned about to find him smiling at her.

"You startled me!" Lilliana looked ahead of her where the group was inspecting the ruins of a small cabin. From the appearance, it had been abandoned to its state long ago.

"Did I? Perhaps some of us knights _are_ skilled at stealth after all, despite the words of cynics." Ajantis' brown eyes could have bore holes into the backs of the Harpers, with their intensity.

The two nobles brought up the rear of the companions. Their group moving in a snakelike pattern through the woods, just entering the section known as Larswood. When they spoke their voices were whispery enough to be lost amongst the natural noises of the woodlands. Up until then, nothing more than animal dangers had presented themselves, but one could never be too cautious.

"I would never doubt that, Sir Ilvastarr." Lilliana spoke the title like it was an endearment.

"No . . . but Dynaheir would. " Ajantis let his taut shoulders relax, enjoying getting away from the displeased Wychlaran. "She is greatly unhappy with me at the moment. She feels that I was encouraging you to rebel." He frowned, recalling their recent argument. Ajantis had been set to ponder the state of their relationship as it was then, and was beginning to suspect the attraction he held for Dynaheir was just that . . . and only that. "I confessed my surprise to Dynaheir, that she would take that stance. They are new to our group, she and her guardian, and did not appear to have so great a loyalty to any of us. Certainly not enough to side with Jaheira. She didn't take that well, I'm afraid. I also fear that I impacted her reaction by questioning if she even knew what 'rebellion' _was_."

Lilliana smiled reassuringly up at the broad shouldered blonde. "I am certain it will smooth over."

He gave a gruff nod, not commenting further on wishes for such a resolution. "Just as things will 'smooth over' between the Harpers and yourself?" Ajantis returned with a wry grin.

"I had a fair sense that I would draw their ire with my actions, so it would seem a bit hypocritical to bemoan it now." She bit her lower lip, worrying at it with her small teeth. "But . . . I _hope_ they might forgive me soon."

"Apart from your dishonesty over the matter, which I find surprising, I cannot say you did much that _needs_ to be forgiven." He smiled encouragingly at the girl. "You were correct. It wasn't right leaving the Order uninformed like that, it removed them from the equation when we could most use the aid."

"My _intention_ was justified, of that I am _most_ certain, but I went about it the wrong way. I told Jaheira that my reasoning to do so was in the interest of honesty and decorum and yet in order to speak to Sir Trawl I told a lie about getting tea. You _did_ tell me my dishonesty was surprising." Lilliana clicked her tongue.

"Surprising yes, but not unwarranted. The Harpers would have likely tried to stop you had you told them of your intentions." Ajantis put an arm around her shoulders. "You are too hard on yourself. It was scarcely _that_ serious."

"No, I suppose not." She felt warmed by his support. Last evening Dynaheir, Khalid and Jaheira had spoken about their displeasure with Lilliana's actions. Ajantis and Imoen had defended her and she was sure they still would but it might have been better if she made amends _herself_. Still, while she did not expect everyone to agree with her, it was nice when at least a _few_ people did. Minsc and Kivan had yet to speak their peace, if they had any to voice and the cleric didn't know if that was positive or negative.

"Come on then! W-we haven't all day!" Khalid motioned at the pair from up ahead and the rest of their journey was made in relative quiet.

As the group neared a small clearing it became obvious that the abandoned cabins they'd seen were the outermost boundary of a sparse settlement, and as they got closer it also became clear that all the structures shared the same dilapidated state. The Woods of Sharp Teeth surrounded the clearing as if the trees were hugging it, and hiding it from the gaze of Ao. Thick branches and leaves created a canopy above that let in meager late-day sun. From the simplistic construction of the ruined buildings it looked like the settlement had never become fully formed; it was difficult to assess past the thick moss and rot, but some of the cabins appeared unfinished. It was as if the settlers had just gotten bored with the effort and headed off for a better and safer location. Such a thing certainly wasn't unheard of and Larswood wasn't the safest woodland.

"T'would appear as if persons unknown were making thee attempt to create a gathering place here." Dynaheir stood in the long grass of the small clearing. A heavy scent of rotting lumber was around her and she covered her sensitive nose with a long gray sleeve. She missed her purple magi-robes but the Harpers had insisted that more natural colored attire was required while venturing in the woods. The Wychlaran could understand that.

"I think you mean a 'village' It looks like they were trying to create a village." Ajantis supplied and Dynaheir only nodded in recognition of his words, not turning her head to look at him. She was still cross it would appear, but Ajantis wasn't going to act contrite for defending Lilliana. _So she'll just have to _stay_ cross_.

"Look! A stone animal!" Minsc burbled happily, having gone around the back of a one-story ramshackle barn. The statue in question was shaped like a small dog and it could have been a living creature for all its perfect detail.

"How odd. The p-placement doesn't make sense to me." Khalid looked around him but there were no other statues insight. "So far from the b-building and the p-pose is strange as w-well." The Calimshite warrior sighed and rubbed his temples. "Ahh, this is getting us nowhere. It is hardly as if the b-bandits have made a camp _here_, and there's not likely to b-be anything of use to b-be found either." He glanced up at what pieces of the sky he could see through the canopy cover. "B-But it's growing dark and I don't think w-we should continue on into the w-woods. W-What do you say, darling, should w-we make camp here?"

Jaheira took a quick survey of the area with her sharp druid's gaze, and finally nodded her agreement. "Might as well. Come on, everyone start getting setup for the evening while we've still _some_ daylight left."

Lilliana paused for a moment to look at the statue, keeping the corner of her vision focused on her group as they begin to get out supplies. She ran a hand over the stone, gazing at the rocky eyes of the dog. "How odd indeed." The half-elf echoed Khalid's words, a strange and eerie feeling overtaking her. It was _too_ perfect, no marring from a mistake of the chisel and it hardly looked weathered at all. Even the fine hairs inside the dogs ears had been carved to perfection.

"Lilliana! Are you p-planning on p-pitching in?" Khalid asked, his tone a bit irritated.

With a small shiver she jogged off to where the others were, and left the stone dog behind. "Yes, of course, my apologies." The cleric smiled at him, but he only turned back to his task. _Hmph! Well fine. _Lilliana thought to herself. _If that's the way he wants it, so be it_. She still felt unsure of how to react to this new side of Khalid. That he could be angry and forceful was surprising. Lilliana also amended that _everyone_ could get angry sometimes and she'd certainly done enough to bring that out.

Kivan watched Lilliana as she studied the statue and moved away at Khalid's censure. The wood elf didn't know what to say to her, the young half-elf with whom he shared a new and precarious friendship. So in his confusion of how he felt about it, or what he _should_ say, the ranger opted to say nothing. His thoughts had run away with him and as they cleared he found the cleric staring at him.

"Do you need some assistance with that?" Lilliana offered the wood elf a cautious smile, indicating the tent stakes he had in a small pile near his feet. When he didn't immediately respond, she faltered. "Right then, well I suppose I shall be off to go see how Imoen is coming along." She could see from there that her sister had garnered the aid of the tall Minsc, but at least it got the half high-elf away from the uncomfortable silence Kivan presented her with.

"No, wait." The ranger halted the girl, bending down to take one of the tent stakes in his hand as he passed it to the surprised Lilliana. "Take the right side, and I'll get the left."

"Certainly." Her smile returned and she stole a few glances at him while she worked. He still wasn't saying that much, but at least he didn't appear as angry as the Harpers and Dynaheir. That was something to be happy about. "Am I getting this accurately? You would think after so many nights spent in the out of doors that I'd develop a knack for setting up tents, but I've just never become decent at it."

Kivan finished with his stake and scooted over to Lilliana on his knees, not bothering to rise to his full height. "Ahh, let me see." Leaning to inspect how far the stake was in the ground, he squinted and nodded. "Perhaps just one last push." Standing he pushed the thick sole of his leather boot down on it. "There we are. Two more to go."

When they were all done, and the pair of them had ties around the stakes, they stopped for a breather as the rest of their companions were finishing up in turn. The ranger handed the cleric his water canteen and he smirked as she took a dainty sip, lightly dabbing at her mouth with the corner of her shirt sleeve.

"In the middle of the woods and you _still_ can't bear to leave your manners behind." Kivan could not help but be amused.

At first Lilliana thought he was picking on her, but she soon noticed the light fondness in his tone and she giggled at herself, feeling embarrassed. "I _am_ sorry, but it's a reflex. I could not stop myself even if I wanted to. Habits that are so ingrained are incredibly difficult to break. Much like _you_ listening to the sounds of the birds." She motioned one hand skyward, where they might've been roosting in the branches that very instant.

"How do you know I do that?" Kivan thought it a legitimate question.

The cleric shrugged, absently dusting some dirt from one shoulder. "Well, I notice things sometimes. Apart from Ajantis and Imoen's attention, I had long periods of solitude to contemplate my surroundings and the people around me. In such silence as I was 'gifted' I noticed a great deal." She gave the ranger beside her a significant look, easing herself to the ground to sit next to her friend.

To Kivan, there was no doubt she was intoning a curiosity as to _his_ silence and how he felt over her recent actions. He could not avoid the issue forever.

"Let's be out with this then." The elf went on, heedless of Lilliana's surprised and wary façade. "I have no idea what to think about what you did. It was far from the most grievous of deceptions, but it was more than something to be brushed aside." It was his turn to shrug. "Certainly I'm not accustomed to traveling with a group and having such open communication, but I think when you have companions that you need to trust them."

"I _do_ trust you, all of you." Lilliana returned, weary of getting into the same argument she'd had with the others the evening past, and her defense was spoken meekly in her inertia.

"Do you? I think not. If you did you would've realized why the Order shouldn't be involved, and you would've accepted that." Hazel green eyes drifted over to the girl.

"But it felt _wrong_ not to tell them, and I could not stand it! I _had_ to be honest, or my silence would be weighing on me still." The cleric's voice rose a level, but she reigned herself in before anger surged into her thoughts.

Kivan gazed at her seriously, his speech low with his conviction. "Sometimes you will _have_ to keep secrets, you will _have_ to deceive, you will _have_ to put your propriety aside even if it troubles you. If you don't, if you lay everything bare for the sake of personal comfort and conscience, no matter the cost, you may one day find that the price you pay is too high."

"You speak of necessary deception." Her voice was quiet, eyes staring ahead into empty space, deep in thought. "My father told me about that, it is something the Harpers believe in." Lilliana's gaze strayed to Jaheira and Khalid across the camp. "I - I _cannot_ do that, Kivan!"

"And yet you did." The ranger's stare leveled with her own, and she was shocked into denial, shaking her head, but he didn't let her speak. "_Yes_, Lilliana. You lied to us so you could go speak with the knights. You thought that if you were honest with the group, you couldn't see your agenda through to its end. I don't need to have The Sight to know your thoughts."

"No! That was not . . . I . . ." She warbled, looking lost. "I did not _mean_ to be deceptive, I just knew that I needed to . . . " The half-elf glanced up at Kivan through her lashes to see an odd mixture of disappointment and understanding there. Failing to find the words she needed, she heaved a long sigh.

"You made the decision Lilliana, for ill or good. It doesn't matter what _I_ think about it, not after all is said and done, but if you're going to do something, do it with conviction." He moved closer to put a firm hand on her shoulder. "You have to take responsibility for your actions, and that _doesn't_ mean apologizing and explaining until the rest of us accept them. It means accepting them _yourself_ and standing by your decisions _and_ their consequences."

"I -I . . . yes. There is wisdom in what you say." Lilliana had her head hanging low, and nodded without looking at her companion. "I will think on your words." As Kivan would have left it at that, she reached out to grasp his hand as a child would cling to their father at the market. "How am I to know when deception is necessary, and when it is not?"

"I can't tell you, only _you_ can decide that." The wood elf stood up slowly, shaking some dirt and loose grass from his knees. "We've been talking enough now and I need to get my bedroll ready for the night, a task I need no help with." His hand was still clasped in the cleric's grip, and he gently slid his palm free of hers.

Lilliana took that as her cue to leave. Kivan had never been an elf that was very fond of long conversations, not in the time she had known him at least. Just in the short while they had been talking, he'd spoken more than any other time during the whole of their association. "Alright, I've got the hint." Lilliana was going to head off, to get her own bedroll ready, but then she had a streak of bravado and pressed a chaste kiss against the cheek of a surprised Kivan. "Thank you for your council, you are a good friend."

* * *

Sir Cadril Valencia glanced back behind him at the small encampment of Order members. hazel blue eyes took in the collection of men, Anomen amongst them. Cadril snorted as he headed off to relieve himself. He stepped quietly over a collection of brambles on the forest floor, a bright moon overhead lighting the way in patches of pale light that filtered through the trees. It was not so thick a woodland as those the young knight had been in before, but it was thick enough.

His anger was not so focused on the foliage, fighting to let him move amongst it, but more at the reason he was there. Anomen Delryn was a fool and yet because Sir Trawl trusted his squire, here they were, tromping through untamed wilderness with nary a sign of their quarry. On the word of some elf girl and _her_ assurances that the _Harpers_ were looking into that location. Though Cadril could admit he appreciated that they were at least looking into a new area, instead of the same tired ground over and over.

A howl shot through the night air and Cadril stiffened, tall frame gone rigid as he listened intently, but there were no more to follow. It had sounded far off, so he doubted the wolves were nearby. Still, he figured he shouldn't leave any food out in case they smelled it. As he strolled back to camp he shot a gaze at Anomen and Lady Felicia Firecam, seated beside each other. She'd always been nice to that fool, but since he had defeated the giant chieftain, it was even more so. Cadril wouldn't have thought that anyone from the Firecam family would be so easily won over, but it must be so if Felicia was growing more fond of the squire. Over a victory that had far more to do with dumb luck than any skill.

Lady Felicia was the daughter of Sir Yorick and his fine lady wife, Katherine. The young lady had her father's love for the Order and her mother's beauty. With ivory skin, long waves of fiery red hair and fine light green eyes, the twenty year old shield maiden was quite a lovely sight. It did not go unappreciated, not even by himself, but it seemed squire Delryn was the one most enjoying her beauty.

Cadril wondered what her uncle, Sir Keldorn, and her father would think of her being in such a fray as she was, but it would be unwise _not_ to bring her along. Felicia's healing abilities, as granted by Helm, could not be outmatched by any of the other priests that were available for the foray. Even his own bride-to-be, Lady Irlana Dalryan, did not have as great a skill with the healing arts, though she was well versed with the shield that shared a name with her title.

The knight thought upon his beautiful intended as she waited back in Athkatla for his return. Irlana had been _fuming_ when she was not chosen as the acting shield maiden for the journey up north, but as always she calmed herself quickly. Cadril recalled, acidly, that what had upset Irlana the most was that the one place where Anomen Delryn could not avoid his old friend was in the field, and Irlana had been denied access to him. Certainly there were plenty of times that the lady could have approached Lord Delryn in Athkatla, but Irlana wanted _him_ to be forced to approach _her_. Sir Valencia knew that from the diary pages she had written.

Lady Dalryan was the fairest maiden in Athkatla, even more so than Felicia and everyone knew that. In the knight's estimation at least. She was soon to be Lady Irlana _Valencia_, and that had filled Cadril with much pride, but how he burned to know that she had wanted Anomen foremost. It was only after Lord Delryn spurned her affection that she finally accepted Lord Valencia's proposal. The knight had confronted her, and she'd denied it of course, but he was no fool and her diary spoke the truth. Irlana didn't know Cadril had read her private thoughts, and for the time being he'd let it be, not wanting to sully their farewell to each other as he left for his current mission.

"Oi! There you are. I'd begun to think the night faes got you." Rupert Cutler looked up at the knight he had been assigned to, nodding his head in the direction of the woods the tall blonde had just left behind him.

"There are many monsters in the wilds, and it is not merely the moon that brings them out." Cadril tapped his fingers against the leather of his sword sheath, the weapon beneath sharp and polished. "Even so, there are none that cannot be brought down with a good blade. I am a Knight of the Order and I'll be ready for any evil that the Great Watcher seeks to test me against." Hazel blue eyes slid imperceptibly in Anomen's direction. "Despite the failings of lesser men." He added under his breath. Fixing a placating smile on his face, Cadril patted the sixteen year old on the shoulder. "Now then, we'd best eat and get cleaned up. I assure you it _was_ merely wolves you may have heard, and though they are nothing to be too frightened of, they _can_ cause a disturbance. So the sooner we've put everything away, the more secure the camp will be."

Rupert nodded his carrot-red head. "Yes Sir Valencia." He ran off, eager to please his knight and earn further recognition for good service.

"Oh, is our evening meal ready? Time has passed, I must say." Lady Felicia spoke up, smiling kindly at Anomen as he rose first from their spot on the ground, and offered his hand to lift the young woman to her feet.

"Indeed. Chatting away the evening can do that." Cadril snipped, turning his back on the pair as he walked brusquely ahead of Rupert.

"Think you that we should have used our time more wisely?" Felicia raised thin brows at Lord Delryn beside her, whispering, even after Lord Valencia had left earshot.

"Nay, Sir Valencia is merely cross that his lady was not chosen as the acting shield maiden, I'm sure." Anomen cleared his throat, offering Felicia his arm as they made for the main campfire. It was kept burning low that night for security reasons, but even the small flames were giving off the aroma of cooking rabbit. "Mmm, I cannot think of an association of warriors or mercenaries that could eat so, here in the wilds, as _our_ company."

"Well, Sir Thaine is a good huntsman and this area seems rampant with wildlife." Lady Firecam demurred. "If I may be so bold, I would say that Sir Valencia is not so cross with _me_ as he is with _you_. What is it that you two have done to one another that would vex both of you in such a manner?"

Anomen looked ahead of him, sending stern eyes in the direction of Cadril's back, at the same time surprised at Felicia's ability to so quickly change the subject. "I fear that Lady Irlana is the cause. We never got on well before, that much is truth, but after this whole business with Sir Valencia's impending nuptials to the good lady . . . it only got worse."

"Had _you_ wished to marry her?" Felicia felt emboldened and pressed the point.

"No, I did not. Though _Lady Irlana _may have thought differently about it, but she is engaged to Sir Cadril at any rate. So I suppose it matters little." Anomen shrugged, trying to forget the whole thing but finding it impossible.

Lady Firecam let out a small twitter of laughter, tossing back a long braid of rich red hair. "I think, Lord Delryn, that you do not know much about the ways of women."

If the other squires, or even some of the knights, had said as much to him, Anomen would have been livid, but Felicia was too nice a lady for that. He sighed instead, dropping his head. "Perhaps her ladyship is right."

As the pair waited for their supper to be poured they sat together on the ground, blankets laid out for those eating around the small fire. Felicia tucked her legs under her, arms laying folded in her lap. So far the Order had encountered not even a small band of ruffians, and not much in the way of dangerous beasts either. She turned an aquiline face about to look on the rest of the small camp. The shield maiden did not know if they ever would encounter anyone, but if Anomen thought his friend's advice was sound then she believed him. Looking at the young man seated beside her, she smiled. He had such a strong sense of righteousness about him, that she could see why Sir Trawl had always bore an affection for his squire.

"That girl back in Beregost . . ." Felicia began.

"Lady Avalon." Anomen offered, as the shield maiden nodded.

A smiled graced her features, noticing the admiration in her companion's voice. "Yes, Lady Avalon . . . Would you say her words were to be trusted?" When that garnered a sharp glance from Anomen, she rephrased. "I mean, do you believe her companions had the right information?"

"That, I do not know. Sir Trawl seemed to think it a sound suggestion, as for where we should search. The Harpers she is with, headed off shortly before we did and I would assume they are not too far from our current location. However I don't make a habit of knowing the ways of Harpers." Anomen smirked and Felicia nodded.

"No, I don't either. Odd folk, secretive." The shield maiden pondered over that for a time and then, glancing at Anomen from under her lashes, she dared another question. "You like her, don't you?"

There was no question of who 'her' might have been and the squire nodded cautiously. "Yes, certainly. She's thoughtful, pleasant and demure." Blue eyes narrowed at the young lady beside him. "But if you mean 'like' as in have a fancy for, then no. We are friends, and that is all."

Felicia nodded. "Of course, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything." Lady Firecam reached for the bowl of stew that was handed to her, thanking Rupert as the boy went off to see to his knight and master. "Why is it that you do not have a lady of your own?"

Anomen bristled but answered the question nonetheless. "The Order is my first love, and I see no reason to concern myself with making a match before I am knighted." At Felicia's continuing gaze, he smiled. "Perhaps when I have my life all properly sorted out. What of her ladyship?"

"Do you know the young Lord Tarek Argalian? He has been courting me for a short while. My father seems to like him, but who knows about these things really. It is not exactly a serious romantic affair." Felicia considered that and then laughed. "Ah, life is never quite like storybooks, is it?"

The squire shook his head, sharing in Lady Firecam's good humor. "Hardly. There are moments I suspect 'romance' is another word for 'nonsense'"

Felicia acted appropriately scandalized for all of a few seconds and then snickered. "_Sometimes_, Lord Delryn, _sometimes_."

They ate the rest of their meal in companionable silence.

* * *

A full moon had bathed the abandoned village clearing in bluish-gray light. The moon was bright enough that they needed no fire and their meal was long since done. All the better for secrecy's sake. Jaheira stared out at the woods with a smile on her face. The woodlands were so pleasant a place, far removed from the unnatural hustle and bustle of the cities. Though the clearing made the druid angry, with thoughts of the people that had cut down trees to make it without bothering to plant seeds for new saplings. Still, the small village had the appearance of one long abandoned, and nature had begun to reclaim the area again.

The grass was long and shared a home with several different varieties of moss and fungi that had grown on the rotting buildings. Wood was one of the few things that Jaheira knew of that didn't smell _so_ terrible when it rotted. Unlike the waste left behind by careless settlers. She scratched at her face, slapping down a large mosquito. The druid recalled her words to the others, when they complained about the insects, but even _she_ had to draw the line somewhere.

Lilliana laughed across the small camp, in response to something Imoen had said. Jaheira narrowed violet eyes at the girl. _When would she stop being so foolish? _"Laughing, as if you find it humorous to have lost our trust?" She finally sniped, her husband sharing the ill aimed gaze at the cleric in question.

"That's enough from your tongue, Harper! She apologized last evening for the dishonesty, it is your own fault that you can't accept it and move on!" Ajantis rose in a flash, quick to defend his former trainee.

"Good knight, dost thou not see how wrong she was? Tis more than the lie we take issue with." Dynaheir spoke up, pointing a finger at the girl and finding that she was still hurt over Ajantis' behavior.

"_We_? And who are you speaking for? You and your guardian? I can hardly believe you continue to support the Harpers. Had they their way you would not even be a _part of this group_!" Ajantis responded, feeling the anger of last evening made fresh within him.

Dynaheir flinched, as Minsc rose from his seat on the ground. "No, no. The Harpers are friends to Dynaheir and Minsc. _All _of us are friends!" The berserker looked around for nods of agreement, but saw only faces of either anger or regret. With exception for the sisters; Imoen shocked at a second argument in as many evenings of their travels and Lilliana ill at ease.

"W-wait a moment now. I can admit that w-we w-were not so adamant to take on our Rashemite companions at the start, b-but I think w-we all can agree that they have b-been accepted. It does not matter how the journey b-begins, only w-where w-we stand in the p-present." Khalid spoke up.

"Oh yes, and at such a convenient time for you to speak of acceptance. When Dynaheir agrees with your wife it makes her much more _acceptable _in _your_ eyes I'd imagine." Ajantis' smile was tight on his face, the words behind those lips waspish.

"Please, none of you need to argue again, when it is _I_ that am the cause of such dissention." Lilliana stood slowly. She addressed all of the companions. "If any of you remain cross with me and feel as though I yet deserve your ire then speak _now_, and let us have an end to it."

"We discussed the group's plan of action at length. If you objected so strongly against it, you should have said something _then_!" Jaheira let her voice rise, not shy to take up Lilliana's offer.

"Yes, it is all w-well and good that you w-wanted to do the right thing, b-but it w-was so late in coming that it w-would seem it w-was made more on a w-whim. Decisions like that should never b-be made on _w-whim_!" Khalid's own tone was surprisingly loud. "Not to mention that you also could have _told_ us w-what you w-were p-planning to say to the Order."

"If I had, would you have let me speak to them?" Lilliana questioned, finding a near deafening silence that followed. The cleric recalled Ajantis' words from earlier, on that very matter. She smiled in sad resignation. "Even with that aside, I cannot blame you for your anger now. You're right, I should have spoken more strongly on my feelings back at the inn, where we first discussed the matter. My failure to do so was a direct cause of my dishonesty with you."

"You don't have to explain yourself to them." Ajantis added, ignoring the glares he was receiving.

Kivan was staring intently at the girl, hoping she would remember what he told her.

"I'm not _explaining_, I just . . ." She sighed and looked over at the ranger, feeling bolstered by his earlier words. "I'm taking responsibility for my actions. I _am_ sorry, but apologizing doesn't change what I did, or didn't do."

"You're right, it doesn't." Jaheira added dryly.

"Ooh! Must you be so . . . so . . . _difficult_ all the while?! I am _trying_ to make peace here." Red flowered in Lilliana's cheeks, but it was with exasperation and not embarrassment that time.

Ajantis was fighting against some level of amusement. _He_ would have called Jaheira something far less civil than 'difficult' "She's right. You are far too harsh on her, you put her to task for not being honest, but can _you_ say that you divulge _everything_?"

Jaheira bristled, Khalid looking briefly alarmed beside her.

"Everyone has their secrets, but don't make this about personal silence. What Lilliana did was go against a decision the group made, and used dishonesty to make sure she could see her own agenda out. _Now_ we have to contend with your people tromping about the woods and likely it will lead to failure. Finding these bandits is important, it is about more than what any one of us _thinks _or _feels_. It is for the good of the people of Toril, and if you can't see that, then you are more blind and thick-headed than I would've imagined." The druid responded succinctly, the look on her face one of a woman who would suffer little argument.

Ajantis was near to furious at another insult against the Order, but before he could say anything, Lilliana let her anger escape.

"Do not speak of me as I am not here! I grow weary of being treated like a child!"

"Then stop acting like one!"

"You _aren't_ my mother, all you are is a shrew who doesn't have the common decency you were born with!"

"What?!"

"You heard me!"

"Ladies . . ." Khalid interjected, standing as both Jaheira and Lilliana were at their full height and glaring at one another. The rest of the group looked like they weren't sure _what_ to do.

"Have you even given thought to the fact that your decisions could lead us to ruin?! What happens when we don't find these bandits, when they are made aware of our presence first? What happens when they kill us as they have killed _many_ men and women that knew how to fight? Do you even consider anyone or anything beyond placating your own 'conscience'?!"

"Of course I do! I . . ." Lilliana faltered, suddenly realizing how furious she had let herself become, and over something so trivial. It was with more than a small amount of shame that she backed down, taking a seat. "I'm sorry, I should not have called you an indecent shrew. You aren't, I was just being malicious."

Jaheira felt her anger slowly ebbing away. Though Lilliana's apology didn't make the druid any less unimpressed by her, it did steal some of her ire, and she sat down next to her husband. Khalid himself was a bit amazed that the two had worked it out on their own without any further interjections.

"Perhaps _I_ was more livid than I should have been as well." The Harper conceded, glancing over at the girl. Her attitude was softened by the realization that, though she worried about the bandits catching them unawares, the shouting she had just engaged in did little good, concerning that.

"Yes, I mean no you weren't, but umm . . . I . . . thank you for the apology?" Lilliana wasn't sure it _was_ an apology, and so her words somehow ended up sounding more like a question.

"And here I thought the one thing you could _always_ be counted on for, was being articulate." Jaheira smirked, and though it was a jibe, it was a much kinder one and the cleric sent her a wan smile in return.

"Even _I_ have moments where my tongue feels knotted together, as well as my mind. One thing I _am_ clear on, is that I _do_ hear what you are saying to me. I can see why you, or anyone really, would think that I am more concerned with my own comfort, and far less with the welfare of those around me. But I _do_ care, I care a great deal. My father used to tell me that I cared a little _too_ much. I don't know if that is true, but I know that I don't always make the best choices. Sometimes I trust the wrong people, or I trust myself and things do not turn out as I thought they would."

"We all do that Miss Lily, but thou may have taken an unwise path _this_ time, one that affects more than just thee companions thou has." Dynaheir wasn't unkind, but she was wary of speaking out and there was little gentleness in her tone.

"I know that." Lilliana nodded at the Wychlaran. She was surprised at the strong stance that she had taken, but she wouldn't condemn the woman for speaking her thoughts with the group. They were together in their actions, and they should all _speak_ together if they wanted to. "However, I cannot change what I did, all I can do is make sure that I do better in the future and to that end, I don't want to hide my feelings, my thoughts and my fears because it is easier to do so."

Imoen shifted beside her sister, taking her hand and gripping it. The red head had a distinct feeling she knew what was coming next, she could read the intent on Lilliana's face clearly. "Hey, look, ya don't gotta talk about that just to prove yourself."

"Talk about what Miss Lily? We have done a lot of talking already I think, though Boo tells me it may be necessary." Minsc watched the two sisters intently. They both seemed like nice girls, but he didn't know them well and wondered at how they seemed to _always_ have something say, especially Lilliana.

The cleric nodded, lids dropping over her eyes as if weighted down by the truth. If she shared that truth, maybe the weight wouldn't be so heavy. "It _is _necessary, I believe, and I am tired of hiding things away because I'm afraid of what all of you may think of me." With a deep sigh Lilliana forced a bravery she didn't feel. "I remember what happened in that tomb. I remember _everything_."

For what felt like hours, the cleric went on about what she had endured within her own mind. Beginning from the night her father died and the way she had massacred the ghoul that would've feasted on Gorion's corpse. She ended with the delusion of Nimbul arriving in her room at the Jovial Juggler and visiting her during her bath. When Lilliana finished her tale she looked around the group with cautious eyes.

It seemed that no one knew what to say, and the quiet was unnerving. Imoen still had a hold of her sister's hand.

A nervous smile pulled at the corners of Lilliana's mouth. Though she felt some measure of relief, she didn't want her companions to think her in danger of becoming mad. "I still think it very likely that it was a possession. If it had been something more than that, or a product of some burgeoning insanity within me, I think an exorcism would have accomplished nothing. The brief nightmare that occurred afterward and that hallucination about the man that took us, they were very likely products of my own mind's imaginings and little more." Lilliana pressed back on her sister's palm.

"You tore this . . . this 'Nimbul' into pieces. You said things to me that were so dark that I thought there _had _to be another person in the tomb. Imoen was nearly _killed_ by your madness, however temporary." Kivan rubbed a palm across his face as if too brush aside something that had blurred his vision.

"_You're _a fine one to talk, after you killed Mulahey the way you did!" Ajantis glowered at the wood elf. In his haste to defend the cleric he realized he might have pushed too far, but the words were out before he could stop them.

"My reasons are my own, knight!" Kivan glared back, but shook his head in disgust of a brewing argument. The ranger's eyes found Lilliana's face again. "How can you think that everything is just back to normal? How is it that you can sit there and speak the word 'possession' as if it were _nothing_?"

"Because it is. I've been put to rights after that exorcism. As much evil as I felt from that thing, I feel just as strongly now that it has gone. There was a short while after my healing that I worried it was not removed from me entirely, but that period of time passed. I have been fine for _days_." The cleric pressed a hand against her chest. "I feel it, in _here_. Whatever it was that plagued me, demon or spirit, Lathander sent it back to the Abyss."

Again there was silence, and it felt like the minds of the group were busy discussing things in private inner thoughts. Khalid was the first one to speak up after that.

"W-Why didn't you say anything to us? W-We w-would have understood. You w-would not have b-been judged for something that was beyond your control." Khalid smiled kindly at the cleric for the first time since they'd left Beregost.

Lilliana almost began to try and get Khalid to see things from her point of view, but then she recalled Kivan's words. She nodded in acceptance of her own blame. "You are right, I should have said something, and that is why I have told you _now_. I can only hope that by being honest and open with you, that you can trust me again."

"What assurance do any of us have that the next time there is a disagreement, that you won't sneak off to enact your own plan again?" Jaheira, always the one to ask the tough questions.

"I suppose you don't, but isn't that what trust is? Faith in others without a guarantee?" The half high-elf felt that might have seemed a little condescending so she softened it at the end with . . ."Besides, I always can count on you and Khalid to correct me in the future."

"W-we cannot _always_ b-be there for you, child, but for now, yes, w-we w-will guide you as your father w-willed it." The Calimshite leaned forward, hands on his knees. "Lilliana, I cannot speak for my w-wife, b-but 'I' _w-would _trust you. I can see that you are an honorable young lady, b-but there has to b-be a p-promise from you that this _w-won't _happen again, that the next time you have concerns they w-will b-be addressed b-before it b-becomes an issue."

"You have my word." The cleric was quick to nod. "And what of _you_, fine druid, might _you_ give me another chance?"

Jaheira looked at her husband, and he smiled at her. With a sigh, she agreed. "Very well . . . but no more 'fine druid' nonsense. Flattery is meaningless, and don't think that our forgiveness _this_ time will extend to all else. Fancy speeches will only get you so far."

"I'll have to remember that." Lilliana offered a brief tilt of her head in acknowledgement.

"He told you they were assassins, bounty hunters, those corpses he left for you?" Kivan was resting his hands on his knees, eyes dark with thought, and had effectively turned the conversation back to what he deemed a more serious matter.

"Not _said_ so much as _implied_, but yes." The cleric's voice was cautious, fidgeting over where the wood elf was taking the discussion.

"Not so unlike the man that nearly murdered you in Candlekeep." It wasn't a question. Kivan made sure to hold Lilliana's gaze, knowing she'd try to avoid the issue.

"Miss Lily . . . Someone tried to kill you before the fiend?" Minsc raised a brow, petting the agitated Boo. "That is not good, I don't think."

Lilliana waved the thought off. "It was nothing, I'm sure." Her face didn't match her actions.

"It was a little more than _nothing_. If I hadn't come upon you, then you'd be dead." The ranger knew Lilliana didn't want to talk about but it couldn't just be ignored.

Ajantis cleared his throat. "Yes, I recall Kivan mentioning that, after you and Imoen returned from the bandit camp. Something about attempted homicide. You said it was a long story, but then we all forgot about it and it wasn't brought up again."

"Lilliana, don't sit there and pretend it was a small thing. If that 'Nimbul' was right, and those _were_ bounty hunters after you, we have a serious problem ahead of us. " Kivan stared the girl down.

"He was _insane_. Kivan you were there as well, you know that a sane man could not have committed such atrocious acts. Why should _anything_ he said have _any_ merit?" Sitting straight she finally manage to free her gaze from the wood elf, and found interest in her boots.

"And yet you fear in your heart that he was telling you the truth. Your face has always made your feelings obvious." Kivan's words held no animosity, only the truth.

"No, not about everything. I don't think his . . . _affection_ for me was true, but I suppose what he said about bounty hunters being after me could have been." The cleric looked around at her other companions. "Kivan is right, I _did_ encounter a man that tried to kill me. In Candlekeep, before my father and I departed." Lilliana sighed loudly. "I don't remember his name. You might think I would, but I do not. What I _do_ remember is that he killed the priest I had spent my years training with, Master Sestina, quick as you please, as if he meant _nothing_."

"Aye, that's always the way of it with their ilk. It is why they are so effective, caring little for life as they do." Ajantis supplied, eyes sympathetic on his friend.

She went ahead, after sending the knight a small nod. "He knew of me, this man. Enough to call me 'Miss Avalon', and to recognize me. After he was dead, they found no notice on his body though, so who am I to say whether there really _was_ a bounty on my head, or he wanted me dead for his _own_ reasons? Though I had no quarrel with the man from my end. I did not know him at all. I knew very few people outside of Candlekeep itself, until I took to the road."

"Ya weren't the type to have enemies. You're just a girl that worked in a library. So it don't make much sense to me, why he'd be after you. No matter if his motives were his or someone else's. I can think of a heck of a lot more infamous folks to go after." Imoen shared how perplexed she was. The whole thing was new to her, and she wanted to ask her sister why she hadn't told her, but Imoen had secrets of her own. _Sometimes you just didn't want to share the darker parts of your life, not even with those you loved_.

Khalid almost squirmed at the uncomfortable twist in his gut, and felt Jaheira's hand tighten in his own, though her gaze gave no sign of her inner thoughts. It was not yet time to tell the girl of her heritage. Khalid knew that as well as his wife, but it did nothing to make him feel like a good man, as he sat there with the knowledge bubbling like poison within his innards. Necessary omission was still omission and the longer they kept the truth from Lilliana, the worse he felt about it.

"It could have b-been to get at Gorion. He w-was a good man, b-but he made himself more than a few enemies, in his day." Even as the words were out, the half gold-elf had to bite back on the wince of feeling. "Many don't like the Harpers, they think w-we meddle in too many affairs."

_Maybe because you _do_?_ Ajantis thought, but there had been enough arguing for one night and he remained silent.

Lilliana was nodding solemnly. "Yes, I suppose."

"Miss Lily, it was _thou_ that killed thee hunter?" Dynaheir could scarcely contain her disbelief. Lilliana was barely competent with her weapon as it was, the Wychlaran couldn't imagine how she had been _before_ Ajantis' training. The knight had told her he'd spent days and long hours with the girl, back when the pair of them had seemed close enough to share such details. The Rashemi sighed at the thought, eyes unintentionally sliding in Ajantis' direction, though the knight seemed not to notice, watching the young elfess instead.

"No, I could not have done so. My Lord, Lathander, was beside me as he has always been, but I wasn't well practiced then . . . I barely am _now_. I wouldn't have had the time to call a conjuration when the assassin was there so quickly." Looking downtrodden, her green orbs softened on Kivan and she smiled. "It was Master Alieradon that slew the man with his arrows. He saved my life."

"It was a very evil villain that harmed you and Mister Kivan, I know this even without Boo to tell me so, but . . . if he was killing hunters to keep them from having you as prey . . . he won't do that anymore. He's dead. They'll come after you just as the evil Edwin was coming after good Dynaheir." Minsc nodded solemnly at his own thoughts.

"Edwin?" Lilliana looked between the pair of Rashemites, puzzled.

"Filth of Thay, after _this_ Wychlaran for an imagined affront to his 'honor' Thee red robes are most insistent on vengeance for the slightest of things." Dynaheir supplied with a weary grumble. Noticing the look of unease on the cleric's face, she motioned gently with her hands, a light smile following. "Do not be worried, Edwin tis a threat no longer to thou safety, or that of all of thine. He would have given up at so long a time in passing, like thee rest of their kind." Amber eyes narrowed into displeased slits.

"With all due respect, how can you be so sure of that? In the letters relayed to me, Tranzig was warned of 'red robes' somewhere in Peldsvale. That is not so far off the mark from our current location, is it?" Lilliana turned a questioning gaze on Kivan, who had been doing most of the scouting along with Jaheira and Khalid. At his nod of agreement she turned back to Dynaheir. "So it would seem that perhaps this 'Edwin' could be there with the ones mentioned in Tazok's correspondence."

"Well, Miss Lily, I am no more sure of that, than _thou_ are that thee hunters of bounty do not still stalk _thine_." The Wychlaran returned succinctly. "I can only imagine it to be so, as thee chance is high that I am correct."

"_Not that you're conceited_." Jaheira grumbled under her breath.

"That's reasonable enough, I imagine." Lilliana agreed, hoping the subject might be dropped. It wasn't.

"Aren't you concerned at all that there might b-be b-bounty hunters after you as w-we speak?" Khalid looked about him, motioning to the woods that surrounded the abandoned village they sat within.

"Well, yes, of _course_ I am. I fear a great many things, but there is little to be done for it, not now at any rate. So what _should_ I do? Cower in fear at the chance my luck will run out?" It was clear she would have to explain better, as many a bewildered look followed her last line. "What I mean to say, is that I cannot be all sat within my fear waiting for them to come after me, until there is something _to_ face. If they come, then they will I certainly hope not, but what control do _I_ have over the fates? I will have to face them _then_, but I'm not alone. I have My Lord and all of _you_."

"Hmm. You're right. I wouldn't have thought that possible." Jaheira sniffed, face held tightly but a smirk teasing at the edges of her mouth.

Lilliana muttered something under her breath that made her sister giggle.

"Moreover, who would place a bounty on your head to begin with?" Ajantis spoke the question most of them were thinking. "It is worrisome, to say the least. A bounty on all of us perhaps, yes I can see that. As some form of 'revenge' for our disruption of the corrupting of the mines, but _just_ you? Unless I missed something between here and there, we have encountered no one that harbored a particular grudge on you, and the one man that had a fixation for you is now dead."

"That I could not say, I really don't know." Lilliana shook her head. "I suppose if that madman was indeed telling the truth, that we shall have to bide our time and wait for the fates to bring such a person forward."

"You don't really believe that do you? That fate will just plop our enemies into our laps?" Kivan's voice was full of disbelief.

"Well, I don't know about _you, _but I don't want any enemy sittin' in my lap." Imoen snorted in light humor and distaste. At Kivan's glower her shoulders sank and her voice lowered. "Sheesh, alright, alright, sorry. I forgot, no jokes allowed when we're bein' so 'serious.'"

"Boo says there is nothing to do, _but_ believe. If we can do something later, I will put my boot up the backside of evil, but if I can't see it, I _must_ wait." Minsc looked around the camp, light blue eyes taking in the array of confused faces. _It was strange how all but Dynaheir did not expect him and Boo to have any wisdom of their own_.

Lilliana smiled at him in such a way that it made the large Rashemite feel unusually shy. "Tell Boo that is _excellent_ advice, and I think you are very wise yourself to heed it."

With that, the conversation on the matter seemed to be closed for the time being. In all likelihood everyone was worn out by an evening of severe talk. Especially Imoen, who finally piped up, all smiles as if everything was just fine and dandy.

"Enough long speeches, I'm gettin' sleepy, and you know what always puts me in a good mood before a nice nap? A story!" She looked expectantly at her sister.

"I suppose I could . . . ." Lilliana started, only to be interrupted, surprisingly by Dynaheir.

"If it would suit thee company, _I_ shall spin a yarn." The Wychlaran was not wholly won over by Lilliana's disclosure, but she was eager to keep the night pleasant. Not only for that, but the Rashemite didn't know what place she and Minsc had in the group. If Ajantis' reserve was any indication, it was a position that could easily slip away. For her part, she could _try_ to fit in.

"Oooh, Boo says he wants to hear a story about great lodges and brave warriors!" To say the berserker was excited would be an understatement. There was a time when Dynaheir would always tell him stories before they took to their rest, but lately she had not told even one.

"Calm, calm. Thou hast heard those tales time and time again, I think. Let us ponder upon thee wishes of yon friends, shall we?" The lovely brunette smiled at them all. "I know many stories of adventure and romance. . . to pass them down tis a most valued tradition in my homeland."

"Adventure is always good for the soul." Ajantis caught Dynaheir's gaze, nodding pleasantly at her, though he had moved no closer.

"Nah, I'm bored with that. How 'bout . . ._romance_." Imoen leaned into her sibling, looking up at her with wide eyes, and snickered soon after.

"Tales of romance are a poor imitation of _real_ love." Jaheira crinkled her face at the thought.

"Well, 'course _you'd_ say that. You're married." Imoen waved her hand dismissively, but at Jaheira's glare she conceded. "Alright, no romance." She tapped her fingers against her cherubic mouth. "I know! Something scary."

"You said you wanted to relax." Kivan supplied dryly, arching a dark brown brow at the girl.

"Well, yeah, but doesn't everybody enjoy a good ghost story?" The red head looked around at the group.

"No, not _everyone_." Lilliana gave an involuntary shudder. "Woodlands make me wary enough at night as it is. I'd like to get _some_ sleep, if that is alright with you." The cleric sniffed audibly.

"Pfah! You're no fun. What do _you_ want to hear then?" Imoen pouted.

Lilliana had already been thinking about it, so it didn't take long to come up with a suggestion. "Something nice, a tall of enchantment in distant lands perhaps."

"Indeed young half-elf. I know a tale of a woman, who once lost her great love. Her spirit doth left to wander the woods until a Wychlaran came across her, granting thy woman respite from her long and weary wanderings. Tis a story with a tinge of sadness, but it has thy enchantment you would wish me to speak of . . . and for the lovely Miss Imoen, so too has it that bit of . . ." Dynaheir moved her hand about as if she could pluck the words she wanted from the air with enough gesticulation. "Ghost story, to it." With a smile, nodding at the eager red headed girl, the Wychlaran began. Her wealth of fine linguistics and Rashemi lilt created a haunting tale.

* * *

The sounds of nature seemed impossibly loud in the evening hours. If an individual was used to it, perhaps it was all well and good. For those that were from the _city_ however, and had spent little time outside of its limits, it could prove a distraction when trying to sleep. So it was that Squire Rupert Cutler lay in his bedroll, awake after Squire Nathaniel and Squire Anomen had long since drifted off.

A small group of Order knights and squires was selected to go on the impromptu mission, for the party had to be little for the preservation of stealth. Rupert was in attendance with Sir Valencia, Anomen with Sir Trawl and Nathaniel with Sir Thaine. Along with Shield Maiden Firecam, their company numbered only seven.

The red-headed squire did not feel bothered by _that_. As Rupert tossed and turned, his mind was troubled more over the fact that they had yet to encounter anyone or anything. _What if the Harpers were wrong? _The sixteen year old human knew little of Harpers or their ways, but he'd heard tell that they were neutral in nearly all matters. _Did that mean they could not be trusted to have the best welfare of the Realms at heart?_ Rupert did not know. They could have sent the girl to give Squire Anomen false information, to lead the Order astray.

If Rupert missed out on the opportunity to earn accolades he would be very displeased. His father was a retired traveling merchant, and they had funds enough, but were not courtiers. Because of this, the boy knew he really had to prove he was noble of heart if not blood. The earning of honor on campaigns was a good way to reach his goals. Mind busy at those thoughts, he groaned and rolled over onto his side again, covering his head with the wadded up cloak he'd been using as a pillow.

"Help me! Please, someone help me!" The wailing female scream came from far off, not loud enough to wake the others, but Rupert heard it.

He bolted upright, fighting the cotton knit of his bedroll. Listening he heard it again. She sounded young and very frightened. Rupert went to reach for Nathaniel next to him, but hesitated. If the girl was nearby in the woods surrounding their camp, the boy could go get her by himself and return safely enough. Then he would surely earn an accolade for bravery in going to the aid of a damsel in distress. A smile lit his freckled face and he quickly got his things, trying to be quiet. The squire almost tripped over Anomen's sleeping form, but soon recovered.

Stepping outside, Rupert listened to the girl's cries for help until he could discern which direction they came from. Nodding to himself, he was off into the trees.

Dark shadows wound about the woods, and as the young squire made his passage, they moved like a living entity. He tried to keep his nerves. Rupert recalled many of the speeches Sir Valencia had given and went through a silent repetition in his head. Feeling bolstered enough to continue, the boy made sure to step lightly, wincing when he snapped a twig underfoot. Keeping one's bearings could be difficult in unfamiliar territory and Master Cutler made sure to walk in a straight enough line that the direction of the camp was easy to discern. "Just a lost girl, that's all. Relax, Rupert, relax." The whispered mantra kept him going. She cried out again and the boy turned his head in that direction, one red brow quirked up. _Had he not just heard her screaming from the east? Why then did her cries now sound like they were coming from the north? _A shape bolted across his path and Rupert yelped in surprise, palm against his palpitating heart. "Lady? Is that you?" He whispered, nerves still tingling. There was no answer.

An owl hooted somewhere overhead and the squire sent the noisy bird a dark glare. He was lucky for the full moon, but it also created more shadows, and when the wind blew it made the boy imagine all sorts of things. Soon enough the girl cried out for help once more and Rupert steeled himself, continuing on.

Ahead of him the trees grew thinner until the squire could see a wide clearing, the moon falling upon strange shapes. Sneaking ever closer they took the form of statues, some of men and women, and others of large beasts. A piece of red hair had fallen in front and was tickling his forehead, and Rupert brushed it aside even as his olive eyes took on a quizzical appearance. _'Who would put a bunch of statuary out in the middle of the woods?'_ The silent question had a silent answer, only a faint wind making the leaves twitch created any noise, even the owl from before had found better hunting grounds.

Then, there she was, wandering through the statues; Rupert's mystery maiden. Her clothes looked careworn even from the boy's distance, pale and tattered. She seemed to be a very young woman, and when she whimpered for help again Rupert found her voice to be most haunting. He whispered out to her, afraid to speak up too loudly, wondering if anyone or anything might have been after her, though she wasn't running and that was a good sign. "Lady?" Though quiet as he was, she must have heard him. Her almost ghostly face turning to survey the trees.

"Oh, kind sir, please, might you help me?" She walked slowly in his direction, dark eyes glittering with tears. "I am so very lost in these woods, and so far from home."

_This would be easier than he thought. _Rupert smiled, trying to appear genuinely helpful instead of helpful _and_ happy with the ease of the rescue. "Certainly, dear lady, come with me. My camp is just back this way."

She was tugging at his sleeve, and up close to her the squire could smell something strange and bitter. "No! No, please! I've lost my brother out here and we must find him!" Her eyes were very dark but human, and full of helplessness.

Rupert stood his ground, but almost lost his balance when she tugged him too hard. "Calm down, please! Really, milady if you will just come with me, I am certain my fellows can help. I travel with a group of knights, you see and . . ."

"No! We have to go _now_!" When the young red head resisted she pleaded with him, desperate voice laced with just a hint of seduction. "I am sorry for being so abrupt with you, but my brother can't have gone far and I fear if we wait any longer something could happen to him. Please, young sir, you look so brave and strong, I'm certain there is nothing you would fear."

"You . . . You think I look brave?" Rupert ventured, cautiously and secretly pleased. Her voice was quite lovely and her face, despite its haunted quality, was also pretty. To be admired by an attractive damsel in distress was no small thing and the squire felt his chest swelling with pride. "Yes, well, I _am_ going to be a knight, you know."

The woman smiled coyly, holding the squire's hand in her own. To the boy, her skin felt clammy though the night was not overly chill. "Then, brave knight, shall we rescue my brother? You shall have my gratitude, forever . . . and _ever_." Once coy, the smile flickered in eagerness.

"Well . . . I don't know . . . " Rupert wanted to rush back to camp, but he could not bear to look like a coward in front of the young lady. "You said he couldn't be too far away?"

"No . . . not far at all." She tugged him and soon the pair of them were off across the clearing.

All around them, the statues watched their passage in silence, but Rupert couldn't help the eerie feeling that they _were_ indeed watching. Once again he had to wonder why they were here. It was if someone had collected them all, but why they had chosen the woods as their 'display hall' didn't make sense to the squire.

"He was over here . . ." The girl whispered, dark eyes wide as they closed in on a small cabin. "We tried to get shelter for the night, but there were these creatures . . ." She shivered and rubbed her arms.

It looked like the cabin was well taken care of, but there was clearly no one else around. Rupert's thoughts stopped abruptly at the young woman's words. "Creatures?"

She nodded, and walked towards the squatty building, calling out for her brother, though she had failed to call his name.

"What kind of creatures?" Rupert followed the girl as she went around the corner of the cabin. "Were they . . . " The squire looked around, but she was gone. "My lady?" There was no answer. "Where did you go?" He stood there, with a light wind against his back. "My lady?" Again there was no answer and Rupert made his way around the whole building, circling it twice, but she had gone. Testing the door he found it to be locked and there was no sign that the young woman went inside.

Afraid to shout, Rupert looked about, ignoring the prickling sensation creeping up the back of his neck. He called out for the girl quietly, but she was no where to be seen.

He heard the sound of something rubbing against one of the statues, and felt goose bumps form along his arms. "My lady?" Only silence greeted him.

The moon was bright across the clearing and Rupert kept looking for the girl even as he headed back in the direction of his camp.

He shrieked when a large shape moved in front of him. As the lumbering beast turned its serpentine head, golden eyes glittered at him, wide maw hissing. The squire's mouth fell agape until his brain finally told his feet to move and he ran, hearing the creature lumber after him. How something that size had stayed hidden on such a bright evening, he didn't know and didn't care. The boy's mind was set only with escape.

Rupert weaved through the garden of statues, frozen gazes indifferent to his dilemma. Something hit his ankle and he tripped, falling onto the dewy grass. Rupert stared in abject horror as the beast loomed above him, golden eyes reflecting in his own. A scream traveled outward, only to end as his body began calcifying. The boy clawed at his throat, lungs refusing the air and the last thing he saw was the reptilian monster and its gold gaze.


	15. Chapter Fourteen: Bad Moon

**Disclaimer:** _"Forgotten Realms: Baldur's Gate" belongs to Bioware, TSR, and Black Isle Studios. Lilliana is mine and situations that you don't recognize from the game are mine, all other material and inspiration for my material is under copyright by the above named. Additional Forgotten Realms material included in this story but not in the game belongs to Wizards of the Coast. _

**Words From the Author: **_So this one arrived a lot quicker than most of my chapters, because the bulk of it was already written. ;) It's a tad shorter you might notice and that's because it was originally the second half of the previous chapter. This one definitely qualifies as an action chapter, and over all I'm pleased with it. I still find some difficulty in writing a smooth transition between the actions of different party members, at least when there are a lot of them. So I didn't want to over do that, so you will find that perhaps I didn't stay focused on group combat too long before the characters were split up. You'll have to let me know if that's good or bad._

_I would've had this published sooner, but my twenty fifth birthday was the twenty fifth (my Golden Birthday as they call it) so I took a bit of time for myself to celebrate. Let's see if I'm a year smarter now . . . probably not. :p_

_So without further stammering on my part, I'll let you read on._

_As always, thank you dear readers, for joining Lilliana on her journey!_

* * *

_**Chapter Fourteen:**_

_**Bad Moon**_

* * *

_I see a bad moon rising._

_I see trouble on the way._

_Don't go out tonight, there's a bad moon on the rise._

_~ Credence Clearwater Revival_

* * *

**W**ith the Harpers having finished their watch it was Ajantis and Kivan's turn. The wood elf had already been awake and ready when Khalid came to rouse him, and had since taken point at a spot up in the trees. Ajantis was headed to join him, though at a more ground-level position.

The knight stretched the tired muscles in his neck. Sleep was a fickle mistress to him some nights. Sleeping on the ground was more something he tolerated, but never really got used to. Ajantis would have gone straight off to Kivan, but a flash of burgundy hair caught his vision and he turned his head to find Dynaheir standing outside her tent, watching him. _Had she been waiting for him, or was it mere coincidence?_ Ajantis didn't know. Her amber eyes were dark and from his distance, the blonde man could see nothing of her intent as it would have been written on her face. So he closed the space, walking nearer until he finally called out a brief greeting.

"Good evening Madame, have the wolves woken you?" He nodded his head in the direction of the northern woods, where faint howling had begun some hours past.

"No." Dynaheir shifted. She had been laying awake thinking of Ajantis; what she wished to say to him. Even standing before him brought her no closer to a decision. "Sir knight . . . I wanted . . . " For once her fine linguistics failed her and the Wychlaran faltered. Dynaheir took a deep breath and forced a smile, the moonlight giving her deeply honeyed skin a lighter tone, as if candles had been lit just beyond the surface. "Tis obvious to me that thou feels good Minsc and I are speaking out when we have no place to do as such. Though tis more _I_ that has spoken." Her lovely face was marred by a frown, but she dared to step closer and placed a light hand against Ajantis' forearm. "You and I . . . we were forming a bond were we not? Have thine words been so forceful that you are sent reeling back from thou?"

Ajantis shook his head, drinking in her beauty, but he would not allow her to make him heady that time. He'd been thinking about the past two nights and their disagreements and a few things were made clear to him. "Dynaheir, no, you really have not done anything _so_ wrong. I just think your alliances were incorrectly placed." Before the Rashemite could protest, the knight put a hand out to silence her as he continued with an apologetic smile. "I was more forceful with my opinions than I should have been. You have as much right to be in this group as I do, and in so saying, so too do you have the right to speak your mind. It was inappropriate for me to rail at you for it."

"Rail?" Dynaheir raised a confused brow. Her Common was getting better, but there were still some words she didn't know. Only in times like that did it really frustrate her. Having a serious discussion was difficult when one party came across as more well-spoken than the other.

"I should not have gotten angry with you as I did." Ajantis explained.

"Ahh, I see." Dynaheir smiled up at him. "And I should not have told thee that _your_ actions were making Miss Lily turn in rebellion. Her actions are her _own_."

Ajantis sighed, moving so that the woman had no choice but to let her hand fall from where it had been touching him. "I hate to see so many get angry with her, about something so _trivial_." Before Dynaheir could add anything, he shook his head with a rueful smile. "Ah, no, there has been enough arguing over that. It is done with now."

"You stood beside her, Miss Lily, you and Miss Imoen. I can see why two sisters would be beside one another, that 'tis no mystery, but for _you_ I am not so certain. T'would be much easier on you to stand with the rest of _us_, instead thou took a less pleasant course to support our priestess. Why?" One thin burgundy brow went up, and her amber eyes were intense on Ajantis' face.

"Because I think what she did was not so bad, I agree with a lot of her thinking, and above all, I care about her. I would give her _every_ benefit of _every_ doubt, and if that earns me some sour glares, then it is a small price to pay in order to be the friend to Lilliana that I wish to be." His gaze was just _daring_ Dynaheir to argue. She didn't and he let his shoulders relax again, anxious to head off and join Kivan.

The man's words said more than he might've imagined. Still, Dynaheir couldn't help but ask her next question. The Wychlaran could sense that the Waterhavian was getting ready to leave her for his watch and she grasped his arm.

"And what of _you_ and _I_, good knight?"

He'd been hoping to avoid what was placed before him then, but he couldn't run from it forever. With a heavy sigh, he looked down to regard the woman. "Dynaheir, there _is_ a bond between us. We are _friends_. You are a truly beautiful woman and I can admit to attraction on my side, but it will not go beyond that. Surely you know this as well as I do. We are too different, and after I have aided this group with the bandit ordeal, I shall return to Waterdeep and to my Order." Ajantis fought the desire to hang his head. "There is nothing more that I can offer you."

"You . . . You are certain of your course?" Dynaheir's long lashes fluttered at him, but in her heart she already knew the answer, and no coy words were likely to change it.

Ajantis nodded. "I am, and I suspect that you and Minsc will continue on your journey apart from this group as well. Once _this_ is all done." He gestured to the woods around them, and moreover the situation the group faced.

The Rashemite only nodded briefly, looking solemn. "Perhaps tis so, good knight. You . . ."

Dynaheir paused, wishing to say more but unable to conjure the words. She knew in all her flirtations, and there had been a few over the years, that they had a limited continuation. She was a Wychlaran and her love was the craft, never to be beyond her sisters, and attractions were as thus. Never more than the dying wick of a candle, left on the sill of an inn as she and Minsc traveled ever onwards.

For a burning moment she found herself envying the courtiers of the west, women that would walk beside a fine man, call him husband and live as was the wont of ladies of 'good breeding' The moment passed. Such a thing was hollow, it was a life of twittering laughter and endless parties of pretense. Even with the little experience she had with western cities and their nobles, she knew that much. The Weave was everything, it was true and powerful and Dynaheir would always have it. _What could the vapid existence of a noblewoman offer in compare? _It offered the arm of someone like Ajantis.

She sighed in acceptance, the look between them full of much more meaning than the last phrase to pass through her lips. "Have a good evening on thou watch."

Ajantis smiled. "Try to get some rest." When she nodded, he turned on his heel, looking past his shoulder to see she had gone inside her tent. The woman had taken it better than he'd feared, but the Waterhavian still felt guilt gnawing at him. However, he knew his words were the truth. If Dynaheir had not also suspected their bond would never be anything more than it was, she would've soon enough.

With one last glance behind him, he headed for the periphery of the woods bordering the abandoned village.

* * *

Anomen Delryn rolled over, groaning. Someone had tripped over him or nudged him. He wasn't sure who, but he was so tired he didn't really care. Murmuring a short half-awake grumble of irritation he had gone back to sleep. Except it didn't last long and he was once again fighting his sorry excuse for a bed roll, trying to get comfortable and failing.

With a low growl of frustration, he sat up and pushed the edges of the thick cotton away from him so he wouldn't feel stifled. With blurry eyes, he looked around the squatty tent to see that Nathaniel was still sleeping soundly. _Lucky git!_ Rupert, however, was absent.

Anomen grumbled and made his way outside. The night air was warm, but he could feel the dampness through the thin material of his long tunic, and it made him even more uncomfortable. "Thank you for waking me up, Rupert." He groused, glancing about as he ran a hand through his rumpled hair. He expected the younger squire would be nearby, but he didn't answer. Anomen called the young man's name twice more, and still there was no answer. "Ah, damn it all to the Hells."

Back inside the tent, the squire knelt down to wake Nathaniel. The gray eyed lord blinked several times, rubbing at his face. "Wha? What is it?" A shroud of sleep had wrapped itself firmly around him and his mind. Waking up was something he was having difficulty with.

"It's Rupert. He's gone off again, and probably has himself in a right mess by now." Anomen rolled his eyes at the thought, making a grumpy show of finding the rest of his clothes and his armaments.

Reluctantly getting out of his bed roll, Nathaniel watched his companion for a time before he went to get his own gear, only to suddenly stop. "Hold on a moment Delryn, why are we headed out with our armor and weapons? He had to just answer a call of nature, I imagine."

"Because, _Warrington_, I called his name _three_ times. He's not deaf, so he's left hearing distance." Anomen retorted quickly. "As for the armor, just because we haven't seen any bandits or dangerous creatures _yet_ doesn't mean there aren't any. Sir Trawl says it's always better to be over-prepared rather than under-prepared."

"_And_? What makes you think we have to go find him? He'll come back eventually. Let Sir Valencia tell him not to leave camp. _We_ aren't his superiors." To further his point, Nathaniel crossed his arms.

"This is _Squire Rupert _we're talking about. Isn't he usually in _some_ sort of trouble when he goes off on his own?" It was a rhetorical question Anomen asked, but Nathaniel nodded all the same, even as Squire Delryn continued with his line of speech. "I'd hate to see Cadril . . . _Sir_ Cadril, tear into him again. As Rupert's companions we should endeavor to look out for one another, don't you think?"

"Alright, alright. It's too early for one of your 'sermons' on duty. Hand me my scabbard would you?" Squire Warrington finally gave in, reaching for his sword sheath as Anomen gave it to him.

Soon both young men were dressed and set to go look for their lost companion, one a bit more dedicated to the task than the other.

* * *

"Wolves." Kivan commented from up in the trees and Ajantis almost jumped in surprise, but he held his calm as the wood elf dropped down onto the forest floor. Old leaves crinkled under the ranger's boots but beyond that he was silent.

The wolves he had identified called out around them.

"They sound nearer than before, should we worry?" Ajantis fidgeted, listening to stillness of the night and the animals that shared the woodlands. He knew he didn't have Kivan's practice as a ranger or his elven senses, and he left the judgment up to him.

"I'm not sure. They're making the howls of a hunting pack, though I can only discern three." The ranger's voice was at a low timbre, and it inspired Ajantis to keep _his_ low in response, which reminded Kivan of something. "I think our argument drew them closer to us. We've been talking quietly during the day but last evening and this one, our voices were raised. It was unwise." The elf admitted his own guilt in that, and he saw Ajantis nod from the corner of his vision.

"Yes, and I confess to my part in it as well. I suppose none of us are immune to our passions, anger foremost." Ajantis shrugged and leaned against a tree, so used to the weight of his great sword that he barely registered it until it pressed between his chain-mail clad form and the tree trunk. "I've heard wolves can be driven to attack humans if they are hungry enough and there are a large number of them. You seemed worried about them when we were farther south."

Kivan snorted as if he was irritated, but his tone was even. "That was a different circumstance. I'd been watching those wolves and they were behaving more violently. Listen to that . . . " He fell to silence and let the knight hear the wolves as they began again. "They are calling to each other about a hunt."

The Waterhavian could not help the smile that played on his face. "You amaze me sometimes, elf. I'd never be able to discern the different howling patterns as you do."

"I'm just accustomed to them. There is nothing to be impressed with." The ranger was very blasé about it.

"You know, there _is_ such a thing as just accepting a compliment." Ajantis chuckled, almost feeling the shrug of his partner. When there was no response, he cleared his throat lightly. After coming clean with Dynaheir, the need to do so with Kivan was prevalent. "About earlier, when Lilliana was talking . . . I did not mean to accuse you of anything. I can't imagine what you must have gone through and I wouldn't blame you for what you did, back in the mine."

Kivan visibly stiffened. "Apology accepted, but let us not speak of it again."

"Very well." Was Ajantis' only response as the pair stood in the still forest, listening to the world around them.

A snap of twigs sounded from behind and they whirled around, weapons ready. Through the moonlight a familiar shape began to take form and Ajantis sighed. "Lilliana."

The girl in question had dressed in her traveling garb and chain mail, clearly not intending to go back to her tent anytime soon.

"You should be asleep. Didn't Dynaheir's story relax you?" Kivan's words were simple and to the point, but not as harsh as they used to be with the girl and Ajantis took note of the fondness in the elf's intonation. Something more and more common after the incident in the tomb.

The knight looked between the wood elf and the cleric with a raised brow, but lost his trail of thought when the girl focused on _him_. Turning his head to regard her, the Waterhavian was a bit startled. Her eyes had a low eerie glow to them that he recognized as an effect of active infravision. Kivan's had been doing the same thing, and Ajantis knew he'd never get used to that.

"I could not rest, at first my own thoughts kept me awake, but the wolves aren't helping." When the Lathanite noticed Ajantis visually searching her over for weapons, she patted her shoulders to indicate the small war hammers strapped at her back.

"There are only three of them, but they sound . . . different. The way it yips down at the end instead of up . . . I am not familiar with those types of wolves." Kivan peered out into the forest, elven eyes unable to spot the perpetrators in question from that distance.

"I thought you were familiar with nearly _everything_. How long have you been a ranger?" Lilliana asked quietly, coming to stand beside him as she too stared into the trees. She was surprised the question had never come up, and in retrospect, Kivan was not the only one that she was close to and yet still didn't _know_ all that well.

All three companions stopped to listen to another set of howling, a bit closer than the last. The cleric looked at the wood elf, and he shifted under her gaze.

"A little over a decade, but I spent most of my time near my home of Shilmista. I've only widened my area of travel in the past year." He grew quiet again after that, and both of his companions knew enough of his reasoning to leave him be.

Ajantis was growing bored. A few small animals and some white-tailed deer had neared the abandoned village, but little else. He could not help but wonder how the Order was faring, wherever they were. _Wouldn't that be ironic? If the information his companions had not wanted to share, was the very same information that led others to success, when they themselves had none to speak of? _Slightly amused at the thought, he smirked and something in his stance must have caught Lilliana's attention.

She smiled at him. "Why is it, do you think, that Imoen and I are never assigned to take a watch a shift?"

"Do you even _want_ a watch shift?" Ajantis grinned when Lilliana shook her head.

"Not really, no. It is not as if I am afraid of the dark, mind you, but it does not make me comfortable either. Don't tell Imoen, but I think you, Kivan and our Harper companions are far better suited than her and I, being more experienced as you are." She rubbed her itchy palms on her tunic, where it peeked out from the edges of her light chain mail.

"Then I think you just answered your own question." He cleared his throat. "In all honesty, you _should_ go back to your tent and get more rest. Morning will come before you know it, and Lathanite or not, you wouldn't like to greet it with a weary mind. The day will be full of travel." He nudged her gently, nodding his head towards the abandoned village that was their camp.

She smiled. "I will soon enough. You do not mind my company do you?"

"Not at all, my trainee." Why Ajantis had added the title of old, he didn't know, their training had been over since they had rescued Dynaheir from the gnolls. When Lilliana looked back the infravision glow had left and she was watching him shyly with her normal gaze. Prompted to speak again, the knight went on. "You know, if you would like to continue lessons, I am certain . . . "

"Quiet!" Kivan hissed, though not unkindly so much as cautiously. The howling had gone silent and that worried him, having ceased so abruptly.

"Is everything alright?" Lilliana peered into the woods around them, but saw nothing.

"I don't hear the wolves anymore." The ranger returned, gaze narrowed in concentration and the tips of his ears almost twitching.

"Maybe they just found their prey." Ajantis supplied, relaxing back against the tree that had previously been his make-shift leaning post.

Lilliana made a face of disgust at that thought but said nothing. She took a deep breath of woodland air. An aching tiredness had settled into her bones, but her mind wasn't nearly as weary and though not plagued by nightmares, just the _thought_ of the ones previous was enough to keep her awake. It was a good thing, she told herself, to have gone out to join the other two, instead of remaining in her tent cowering from fear of night terrors. The cleric sent a triumphant grin to the moon where it peeked through the branches; the evening reflection of Lathander's glory. _You see My Lord? I _can_ step out of my shell._

Her companions seemed willing to remain silent, Kivan's brief interruption stealing away whatever words Ajantis might have had for her, and Lilliana was left to further thoughts. The howling of the wolves may have been preferable to the sudden eerie stillness that surrounded them. Something winked in the bushes, like a brief flicker of light, and the half-elf's spine straightened, head turning in that direction. Her eyes narrowed curiously that way and she edged closer, drawing Ajantis' awareness.

"Did you see something?" The knight whispered out, unsure of what feeling it was that crept up his back and prompted him to whisper.

"Lilliana, what is it?" Kivan's whole body had become alert.

A rustle in the bushes made all three of them freeze where they stood, a low growl sounding from around them. Lilliana could see nothing, but the sounds were enough to give her pause and she moved back toward Kivan and Ajantis.

"The wolves . . ." Her voice came out like a strangled peep, because something was wrong. A smell on the breeze, the sounds. The skin on Lilliana's forearms pebbled up, but she barely noticed, gripped with a sudden and inexplicable fear. Behind her, the elf and the human had both slowly drawn their weapons. There was one beat, then two, heavy thuds of the cleric's heart in her chest, loud in her ears; waiting in anxiety for action.

Then the beast was there, bursting from the trees to throw itself at Ajantis with a fearsome growl. In the moonlight the size of it was revealed as nothing close to a wolf. Ajantis yelled as it bowled him to the ground, snarling maw closing in on his face. The knight dropped his sword to push at the thing's head, keeping the sharp teeth from getting at his throat.

Kivan was spurred into action, releasing an arrow into the beasts ruddy brown fur. It snarled at him as it turned shining eyes on the elf. Letting out a bloodcurdling howl it tore the arrow from itself with one large paw. Bits of spittle flew from its mouth as the monster roared, and left the knight to pounce at the elf. Kivan didn't have the opportunity to draw another arrow and the bow was knocked from his hand.

Ajantis rose up from the ground, wincing at the lacerations that had pierced the chain mail between the exposed sections of the half-plate he wore. There was no time for his pain, and the knight quickly picked up his sword and went to Kivan's defense. Swinging at the beast with might, he sliced across its shoulders as it had the ranger pressed against a tree, trying to bite at him.

As the beast dropped the wood-elf and turned back to Ajantis, the Waterhavian saw the wound he had caused was rapidly healing over and he could've sworn the beast smiled at him. Weaving for a few moments on wide wolf-like feet, it stared at him and then howled again, resuming its attack.

Swing after swing connected, slicing into the beast, but every time the injuries healed soon after, making Ajantis' attacks useless. Even in his erratic mind, the knight recognized what the monster was. He kept at it as Kivan recovered and joined him, drawing his elven long blade.

Lilliana was still in shock, but was finally shaking herself out of it, enough to hear Ajantis shout '_Silver_!' at her, over and over. Not understanding she still stood as if in a haze, until finally the knight yelled '_Werewolf_!' and then clarity dawned and she drew her silver war hammer out. She bounded over, preparing a swing. The handle was yanked from her grasp from behind, and for a moment all Lilliana could do was look at her empty hand as her companions fought the werewolf. Then she slowly turned her head to come face to face with another of the snarling beasts. As the werewolf would've lunged at her, she ducked, meaning to roll away but the thing grabbed her ankle and threw her like she was a rag doll. Lilliana connected with a tree, nearly knocked unconscious as she fell to ground.

Both Kivan and Ajantis were locked in fierce battle with the werewolf. Unaware of the second beast, the blonde heard Lilliana's scream of surprise and pain. A growl of frustration came from him as he made an attempt to break from the monster he was fighting. "By Helm! Just die!" But no matter the effort, the beast would only regenerate at such a rapid rate that not even the knight and the elf could defeat it as a pair. From somewhere behind him, he heard Imoen yelling, and the mixed druidic summons of Jaheira and the spell calls of Dynaheir.

Minsc bellowed a war cry in Rashemi, swinging his mighty blade enough to wound the beast and cease the attack. Though the berserker, like Ajantis, soon came to dismay that the creature could heal from its wounds so rapidly. Minsc had bought his companions only _seconds_ of respite, before the werewolf was at them again.

The second beast was fighting against Khalid's blade and Imoen's arrows, as Dynaheir blasted it away with flames from her fingers. It kept trying to get back to the cleric it had injured, but the others held it at bay, though they were quickly tiring out from the effort it took with the monster's regeneration.

Jaheira winced as the acrid stench of charred fur wafted up her nostrils, the sounds of combat, the horrifying growls and howling clanging in the druid's ear drums. She could barely hear the calls she made to Silvanus in her head. Violet eyes focused on the beast that was circling the dazed Lilliana, and even as the girl rolled to avoid another attack, Jaheira let her druidic summons spiral from her soul out to the tips of her fingers and into the earth.

The werewolf howled in anger as a flurry of vines formed from the ground to grab at it. Jaheira drew close with her husband at her side, ready to attack the beast but it soon ripped free from the vines and the druid barely managed to escape its charge. Khalid had dived aside, and shouted his wife's name as he lit into the beast with Nithryon's sharp edge.

Dynaheir could not focus well with the flurry around her, but in her mind she realized what they were fighting, and as Ajantis had, also recognized what they needed. The moonlight glittered down on the silver mage's staff, held tightly in her hands. A wide smile curved her lips as they pursed to let the words of her next spell escape. Even as the wide tail of flame lashed out at the beast as a burning whip, the Wychlaran had her staff held aloft and tossed it to Minsc. He grabbed it with surprise, but at his witch's rambled words of explanation, he was quick to nod.

The large berserker dropped his own great blade, by then knowing its inadequacy, and held Dynaheir's staff as a spear. Minsc prayed to the Great Witches of the Citadel for the strength he needed to drive the blunt-tipped weapon into the beast's flesh. As the werewolf fighting against Kivan and Ajantis continued to battle them, the berserker came at it for all that he was worth, and drove the staff into the monster. For a few agonizing moments he wondered if it had worked, but then the beast howled in pain as it tore the staff from where it had been forcefully driven into its side. The wound didn't heal and Minsc gave his own howl of triumph.

Imoen fumbled with her bow, dropping it several times as nervous fingers shook while she tried to ready another arrow. She didn't notice the werewolf that Minsc had injured, only the second beast that was set on ripping Khalid and Jaheira apart. She whimpered in frustration as another arrow slipped from her fingers. Having left her tent in a rush the thief was dressed in her night clothes still, the long shirt she had worn was tucked haphazardly into the waist band of breeches she'd hurriedly pulled on. Her mind was equally haphazard from being yanked from slumber. She took a deep breath and tried again. With a yell of surprise she fell over her sister and the two landed in a jumble.

Though the cleric had been searching desperately for her silver hammer, the chaos of the situation created a massive swell of unease. Lilliana had seemingly no sense of her own movements or of what to do. Untangling herself from her sister wasn't helping the situation and seeing was no easy task either; one eye blurred by the sluggish trickle of blood that had begun to cake in her lashes. Lilliana panicked as the din of combat threatened to swallow her up. _Any moment one of those things could break free and come after me. _Her head throbbed a painful drum beat against her skull and the cleric moaned, tilting sideways as she tried to stand, legs wobbly even after success in that endeavor.

Imoen was too busy looking for the bow that she'd lost when she'd tripped. When she noticed what was behind the cleric she stopped. "Lil! Look out!"

Lilliana whirled around and screamed as a third werewolf snarled and came at her. She threw herself to the ground as the beast's size carried it crashing into the trees. Before the cleric had recovered, Imoen had her hand and was pulling her up. Both girls were without weapons, and that left them in peril.

Imoen called out for their companions in panic, but they were too entangled in fighting the other two beasts. _A _third_ werewolf?! Where had it been while its pack members were battling the others?!_ Then a sickening thought occurred in her frightened mind. _The third monster had been waiting for its partners to keep the stronger of the companions occupied, so it could pick the weakest members off when they were without defense_. She was almost crying in despair as the beast began to circle them, a terrifyingly human smile pulling up its lips to reveal teeth that might very well be their demise.

"Run!" Lilliana screamed, in a moment of fear induced lucidity, tugging her sister's hand.

Imoen needed no second command as the sisters took off, hoping to lose the werewolf in the trees until their companions could come help.

The cleric's booted feet hit the uneven forest bed, and she willed herself not to stumble. Twigs and branches slapped at her, but she barely felt the small cuts and lashes beyond her adrenaline. Lilliana's lungs were already burning copper with the effort of hard running. Her only real conscious thought was her sister's hand in hers. She couldn't let Imoen fall behind, she _wouldn't_; forcing her sister to keep her frantic pace.

The moonlight slashed through the trees, flickering across the forms of the fleeing girls, creating shadows that undulated around them. It made it difficult to asses their surroundings and Lilliana soon lost all sense of direction. She was hoping to run a loop and double back to where her companions were, with a bit of luck having given them more time to defeat the other beasts.

In the wake of the sisters, the werewolf was snarling through the woods, snapping thick branches as its strength and girth rent the forest asunder before its passage. It could smell blood off the two girls, nothing more than small cuts, but the scent was enough and the monster kept on their trail.

Up ahead there was a clearing in the moonlight and Lilliana could've sighed in relief had she the breath to do so. _They must have made it back to the abandoned village, circled back around, and the werewolf would run right into her friends_. She pulled her sister even more, anxious to push the pair of them into the space before them. _Just a little further . . . _

Lilliana let out a yelp of pain and surprise when something hard hit her shins and she went tumbling over it, the hold on Imoen's hand pulling the human behind her.

"Lil . .. What . . . " Imoen stood quickly, looking down at the stone torso of a man. The object that had caused their fall. As the human gazed about her, she felt frozen to the spot. "What is all this?" Her voice came out in a frightened squeak.

The cleric expected it had been some fallen log, so when she glanced up at the sound of her sister's voice, a cold dread seeped into her stomach.

All around the girls was a glade of statues, hundreds of stone men and women stretching out across the clearing, even a few animals. At their feet was half a man, his legs having crumbled as the torso was on the ground, mouth open to a silent scream as stone arms shielded his petrified face. "I don't know." She whispered.

From behind them, the snarling werewolf was closing in and Lilliana jerked her sister under a large statue of a bear. The fit between the stone belly and the ground was limited, but they made it. Lilliana held Imoen's shaking hand tightly in her own palm, which was not so still itself. "We must be quiet!" She cautioned in a low murmur, and Imoen only nodded, eyes as wide with fright as Lilliana's were. The cleric's gaze turned to take in the furred feet from beneath the statue, talons at the end.

The werewolf had dropped low to the ground and was sniffing it. "I can smell you!" It growled in enjoyment of the hunt.

Imoen swallowed back on a scream, afraid to keep her eyes open and afraid to close them. Lilliana clamped a hand over her mouth, muting her whimpers. The cleric herself was rigid, too terrified to move. An elongated snout came into view, drool dripping from the werewolf's jaws and Lilliana started to shake in terror, clamping her teeth tightly so they wouldn't chatter. Then she shrieked when claws tightened around one of her ankles and yanked her out from her hiding place.

"Hello, she-elf!" The werewolf smiled, in a horrifying way that was partly animal and partly human, the broken common it spoke slurring over a thick tongue, dripping with hungry spit.

"Run, Imoen! _Run_!" Lilliana screamed, prone as she was held upside down, hair brushing the wet grass as the werewolf seemed to be studying his prey. She heard her sister crying and then movement. The cleric squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to watch her own demise, but long seconds went by and nothing happened.

Trying to see in her position was difficult, but she could tell her beastly captor was looking out into the glade, sniffing the air. A reptilian hissing echoed around the stones and the werewolf stiffened above her, howling, and Lilliana yelled in shock as she was let loose and fell to the ground. Scrambling away, she began to scream as a huge reptile slithered between the statues and spit a strange ooze at the werewolf. Soon the monster's fur began to calcify and the cleric ran while she had the chance, heart beating maddeningly against her aching ribs.

Around her the statues watched in frozen terror, faces etched in eternal fear. Some of them had arms stretching out, and others cowered to the ground. Lilliana saw them all as she whipped past, the full moon lighting the glade around her like a large candelabra on a macabre stage. There was a roar behind her and she knew it wasn't the werewolf anymore. Panting, the half high-elf ran as fast as she could, the world around her passing in a blur of stone gazes.

"Imoen!" Lilliana yelled, hoping to find her sister in the maze of statues in the rush to get out of the clearing. A thin shape darted ahead of her and she shrieked, feet sliding on the wet grass and she went to the ground hard. There was an 'oof' of air when she hit, and for a moment her breath was taken from her. As the cleric went to stand again she nearly shouted aloud at the sight of the young woman before her.

"Shh! Elf, you must be silent. The stone eaters will hear you!" A worried whisper from the ghostly girl came complete with a frightened sideways glance of her dark eyes. Her figure was slender, and the clothes care-worn. She tugged on Lilliana's arm and pulled her around the statue of what looked like a rather bulky man.

The cleric yanked her arm from the surprisingly strong girl's grasp. "My sister is out there. I must find her!" Lilliana went to double back, but the ghostly young woman was in front of her again, though the half high-elf couldn't fathom how she had moved so quickly.

"No time, no, no time at all, pretty one." The girl cooed in an almost condescending fashion, perhaps not meaning to as the words drew the suspicion of the cleric.

"Who are you?" Lilliana whispered, craning her neck to watch for any sign of the lumbering beast.

"Please, come with me, and all will be well." The mysterious woman beckoned the elf girl again, but she didn't follow.

Instead the cleric had one brow raised at her abrupt companion. "No. I am _going_ to find my sister. Help me and we may _both_ escape this stone 'garden'"

Clearly the elf wasn't going to co-operate and the strange woman snarled. "Fool! You would've been young forever, but now I'll have them tear you apart!"

The façade began to melt away in a bevy of enchanter's smoke and Lilliana watched in horror as the vision changed before her very eyes. Pale skin melted away, twisting in a torturous mess of color and harsh odor.

Lilliana fell in revulsion on her hind quarters, skittering back on the wet grass on her hands. When the transformation before her had finished, a mad looking gnome stood there, staring at her with hateful black eyes. Already he was casting magic in a quivering tongue and Lilliana had all she could do to leap out of the way of a nasty acid arrow. The spell hit one of the statues with a loud sizzle, and the cleric screamed as a small explosion was sent reeling against the stone she had taken refuge behind.

"I have done _nothing_ to you!" She shouted, dashing between the effigies, but still the gnome always seemed to be impossibly close. The hideous monster of before was not forgotten, and green eyes went wide with both fright and alertness.

"You trespassed into _my_ glade! Like all these foolish settlers around you, hacking at the trees, burning them! They destroyed everything that stood in their path, and now they are finally at harmony with the woods! My pets saw to that, oh yes!" The madness was evident in every hissed word. If anyone would've doubted the danger of the illusionist because of his size, the crazed manner of his being would've silenced those doubts.

The realization of his words sunk in like cold water within a sickened stomach and Lilliana almost cried out. _The statues . . . They were what was left of the settlers that had once lived in the abandoned village, and other poor creatures that had stumbled upon the ghastly display_. She heard the gnome calling to his 'pets' and anxiety coiled in her belly. A bulky shape lumbered into view and the cleric threw herself under another large statue. Chunks of rock crumbled around her when the monster's tail connected with the effigy.

She shielded her face, wincing when a piece of stone hit the back of her leg. Scrambling out from under the breaking statue, she tried to take off at a run, skidding on the dewy blades of long grass. Though the beast seemed sluggish, it was its size and strength that Lilliana feared, and above all being petrified by its stone gaze. A sharp pain shot through her skull, her head injury of before left unhealed, and her boots slipped on the wet terrain as she lost her equilibrium. The cleric seethed as she fell into one of the statues, the rough stone scraping at her cheek.

_Pets, he said _pets_, multiple_. Just as that thought came to her, another of the large beasts was in pursuit and Lilliana gathered her scrambled wits to dash away. She was running in circles and soon, her energy would be depleted. Someone grabbed her hand and yanked her to the other side of the effigy of a woman. It was Imoen.

Lilliana didn't even have the time to be relieved. "Basilisks! I recognize them from Elminster's Monster Guide. That gnome must be controlling them somehow!" She shrieked and shielded her sister as the tail of one of the massive reptiles tore the head and shoulders from a statue two spaces over; the pieces flying everywhere.

"What are we going to do?!" Imoen hissed.

"I don't . . . wait! I have an idea!" Lilliana's face all but lit up with insight. "We have to get to the stone bear, and you have help me get up on it."

"What?!"

"Come on!"

The sisters took off at a run, barely dodging the spell work of the mad gnome, and the petrifying spit of his pets. Lilliana could see the bear in the red haze of her infravision, though the lines were difficult to make out. She tugged Imoen along behind her, focused on her goal. Once there she dropped to ground as her sister did the same, panting for breath.

"Now what?" Imoen whispered, looking around the statues for the reptilian beasts or their master.

"You trust me?"

"Of course I do!"

"You have to give me a boost and then run out to get the beasts' attention, keep them distracted. _Don't_ let them look at you!"

Imoen's eyes widened in disbelief. "No way, you're crazy!"

"I'm _not_. I _promise_ you." Lilliana looked around the statue, wincing in trepidation as the moonlight glinted off golden scales, not far from their location. The mad gnome's angry shouts and spell calls seemed to echo from all around them. She put a palm to her head, leaning back into the statue with a weary breath.

"You're _hurt_! Heal yourself first!"

"There isn't the time for that. Just be careful and let me do this"

Imoen just groaned, drawing sharp huffing breaths with the effort of helping her sister clamber onto the back of the stone bear. She crossed her fingers and ran as soon as Lilliana appeared to be doing alright.

Atop the statue the cleric was careful to keep herself low to its back and not stand, watching as Imoen fled. She prayed for her sister, keeping track of the girl as best she could. One of the basilisks came past the statue and Lilliana knew it was then or never, she wouldn't have a chance to do it again. She leaped from the statue to the backside of the giant lizard, holding on for dear life, the thin muscles in her thighs clinging to the beast's neck as it began to thrash under its unexpected rider. Lilliana put her hands to the basilisk's head.

"NO! What are you doing?!" The gnome shrieked, ceasing his spell castings, worried about hitting his pet. The other basilisk seemed just as unwilling to attack the intruder for similar reasons.

The half high-elf shut her eyes, trying to concentrate as she reached out to her god with her soul. She wasn't sure it would work, but she had no weapons and no one to aid her and her sister. Lilliana could only hope that the beasts were indeed under some charm enchantment, and furthermore that Lathander would grant her the strength of a calling that could dispel it. "Ahl runaes, ahl adiem, ahl kaeda. Deruse runaes!" The cleric's eyes came open, white pooling towards the center of her irises until the bright light filled her entire socket, her hands the same bright hue. "Ahl runaes, ahl adiem, ahl kaeda. Deruse runaes!"

"NO! NO! You _cannot_!" The gnome screamed, panicking as he realized what the girl was about to do.

Lilliana sent Lathander's will outward, the spiraling glow enveloping the beast she was atop and widening to encircle the second basilisk as it chased her sister. The effort drew energy from her and she fell from the beast to land upon the ground, rattled skull quailing at the impact with a tremor of pain and vertigo.

The gnome was shrieking, running from his pets, as they turned on the one that had enslaved their minds for so long. Free of the mad mage's influence, they were intent on animalistic vengeance.

"I am your master, your father! Back away!" He shrieked, and in his panic he cast magic missiles, sending them into one of the basilisks. It hissed and kept coming, the one beside it equally as focused. They spit on him as he tried to run, and soon the mage was as much a statue as the others that stood in the glade.

Imoen smiled in triumph, stopping at long last to catch the breath that seemed hard to find before. She put her hands on her knees and drew night air into her exhausted lungs.

The basilisks were breaking apart the stone of their former master, with large swipes of their powerful tails, and eating the rock that crumbled to the ground. They seemed preoccupied enough, and Imoen managed to weave her way back to the statues and find her sister. Rumbling in the background kept the red head ever aware of the danger that yet remained, for she certainly wasn't convinced that the basilisks would just go on their merry way.

Lilliana was laying on the ground, slumped in what looked to be a very uncomfortable position. Imoen kneeled on the wet grass, pressing her hands lightly to her sister's frame and attempted to rouse her.

"We gotta get up, and get outta here, while those things are still busy eating." The thief's stomach gave a lurch at that thought, but she had more dire concerns. Escape the foremost of them. There was a hissing from behind the human that made her _very_ wary.

Her sister didn't respond. Lilliana's wearied and injured mind had reached the limit the cleric had pushed it to, and the girl had fallen into unconsciousness.

* * *

A writhing human lay naked on the ground, the silver staff still embedded in the man's body as Ajantis Ilvastarr stood above him.

"Who are you? Why did you attack us? Answer me and I shall see your suffering lessened." The knight offered, grimacing as the dying werewolf only laughed, blood bubbling at the corners of his pale mouth.

"My brother . . . . will get the reward." He smiled, racking coughs traveling through his body, the dark embrace of death having stolen away his changed form, and abandoned him as he was then. Little more than a man left to delirium in the last moments of his life. He looked up at those that had sealed his end with silver, his defeated and deceased companion lying merely a breath of space away. "She's dead . . . your elfess." Another laugh and he was gone.

Ajantis growled in frustration, pulling the man up by his shoulders, but there was naught for it and he let the body drop.

"Miss Lily and Miss Imoen are gone! There must have been a third one, the 'brother' he spoke about!" Minsc looked about him, even as he wrenched his witch's staff from the dead werewolf's chest. He handed it to her, failing to notice her look of disgust when she took in the sight of the gore staining one end of it.

"Calm thyself, good Minsc. Their weapons lay here with us, and in thy confusion tis likely they ran in fright. Fear not, faithful companion. We shall find them." Dynaheir patted the berserker on the arm as she used the raggedy end of her cloak to wipe her staff clean, sniffing in distaste.

Jaheira stood from where she had been kneeling by the other corpse, druidic magic working over it. The scent of fresh spilt blood would draw more predators that might've been living in the forest, and her summoning would mask the smell for a time. "We must go, to find the girls."

"He said they were dead!" Ajantis wailed in angry despair, kicking at the corpse of the one that had claimed as such.

"He didn't know that any more then we do now." Kivan supplied, picking up one of Lilliana's fallen hammers, the golden gleam of Ashideena bright under the full moon. "Would you leave them to whatever fate is out there?" The infravision in his eyes gave them an angry luster.

"Of course not, but I don't see how you can all be so calm about it. Let's go then, we shouldn't tarry here a moment longer!" Ajantis scowled and retrieved the other hammer, tossing Imoen's fallen bow to Khalid, who glanced at it once before slinging it to his back with his own.

"T-Then we go." The Harper narrowed his eyes on the tree line, as the group wasted no more time, leaving the dead werewolves to a deserved fate, lain upon the earth they died on.


End file.
